Saying Goodbye

Last week was not an easy one for any of us but friends were a great support. Mark’s friend Tom took him walking in the Dales. They climbed Buckden Pike in hail, heavy rain and sunshine, something that Simon would have done in similar circumstances. Eve and Grace had encouraging ‘phone calls and text messages - two of Grace’s close friends changed their plans to be in Skipton with her.

Last Sunday we all went walking along the Strid at Bolton Abbey and had lunch outside at the Cavendish Pavilion. It was a great environment in which to make some of the decisions that had to be made and on the way back the children gathered pine cones so that we would have a large basket full for throwing in the grave. Squashy and with a distinctive earthy smell and textured surface the pine cones were just perfect.

In a pothole by the Strid

Physical activity definitely helped when we felt overwhelmed. Grace and I spent time in the garden, planting some new plants, mowing the lawn and venting our feelings on the weeds. Out there we could ignore the ‘phone which had been ringing incessantly.

Eve was bombarded by questions which continue. Her son Adam likes facts so wanted to know how deep was the hole going to be, who would dig it, could he get into it, why was the coffin screwed into the hearse, when would we be planting the tree.... In Mark’s family Seth was concerned because a woollen coffin surely wouldn’t be strong enough to hold a body.

On the day of Simon’s funeral I woke up just before 5am and felt very restless. As I drank my cup of tea I knew that the best thing for me to do would be to go down to church and sit with Simon – his coffin had arrived in church the previous evening. I listened to the dawn chorus, stroked the woollen coffin, cried a lot and watched the church get gradually lighter. It was a very special time and I left feeling calm and ready to face the day.

We met friends and family as they arrived for the funeral service and there were some lovely surprises – my friends from Pilling when I was a teenager, my university friends, our friends from when our children were growing up in the village, a friend from Freetown days, Simon’s work colleagues who had travelled miles and reorganised busy diaries to be with us.

The whole day was wonderfully appropriate, deeply sad yet joyful. The beautiful woollen coffin with the simple spray of flowers from Eve’s garden, the African fabrics hanging over the ugly wooden chipboard panels [the inside of the church is a building site at the moment], the great singing, all my children’s contributions and Louise’s address, the pine cones being thrown into the grave, the delicious lunch provided by Rob and Jo, all helped to make the day really meaningful and special.

Many people say that the waiting time before a funeral takes place is the worst but for me it was the day after. I am so pleased that on Friday morning I was able to show Simon’s aunt and cousin around the ceramics exhibition before they had to get their train home and that in the afternoon I was back in church with the ‘Smiley Faces’ group. The young mums and their children are always a pleasure to be with. Yesterday I dozed all afternoon on the sofa so there is obviously a lot of sleep I need to catch up on.

If you would like to read the reflections Eve put together and read at Simon’s funeral please get in touch by sending me an email liz@croodhouse.freeserve.co.uk