One night I was called to the bedside of an elderly woman, She was dying having had a second stroke. The first one had been 18 months earlier and that had left her unable to speak and walk so she had been in a nursing home. Before that she had been incredibly active and a powerful force in her families life. Even though she couldn’t speak after her first stroke she could still communicate what she wanted. The patient’s daughter was an only child and the relationship between the two of them at times had been really difficult. The daughter went on to have three daughters of her own. It seemed to me from what was said that the patient had been an exceptionally good grandmother. It also seemed that she had tried to make up for maybe not being that great a mum by being a fantastic grandma.
As the daughter and granddaughters talked to me over the few days it took for the patient to die, it became clear that there were some deep wounds. I encouraged the daughter to name her hurts and speak them out loud to her mum as she was never going to get another opportunity to do this. I said I felt that her mum had tried to atone by the way she had been with her grandchildren and that she wouldn’t want her daughter to carry that pain any further in her life. Now was the time to lay it down and let it go. Bravely she was able to do this and we were able to have a little ceremony and anoint her mum and begin the process of laying the ghosts of the past to rest.
While all this was going on a very good friend of mine was dying. She was in Maidstone Hospital. I visited when I could and chatted on the phone to the rest of the family when I couldn’t get there. Diana was a hospital chaplain herself and had been very instrumental in shaping the way I approached priesthood and chaplaincy. The last time I saw her in a state where we could communicate I knew I had to take my own advice and say to her all the things that I would never have another chance to say. In this case they were all very positive things. During this conversation I asked Diana if she wanted to be anointed. She smiled and opened herself up to me in a posture that is symbolic of being anointed. In my short time as a chaplain I have anointed many people. Anointing Diana was the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time. It was a beautiful moment and she was very serene and peaceful and it is a memory that will stay with me forever but it was really hard. Afterwards I got back to my car and wept. It was some time before I was able to drive.
The next day, back at work, I found out that the family of the elderly patient who had died wanted me to take the funeral. I agreed to do this as they were all so dispersed around the country.
The funeral was early one Friday morning. I had spoken to Diana’s family the night before and they didn’t expect her to last much longer. I was very heavy hearted as I arrived for work that morning. I put on my professional mode and set off for the funeral. Just before I arrived at the crematorium I realised I didn’t have my robes with me. I was aghast at what I’d done and couldn’t believe I had been so stupid. The chapel attendant at the crem was great and rigged me up in something. It wasn’t perfect but it would do. I then opened my folder only to find that I had put the wrong funeral in it. At that point I almost lost the plot. I went into the chapel to take a moment to try and compose myself before the family arrived.
When the family arrived I confessed that I was not properly dressed and that I had forgotten my notes. I was extremely apologetic and said I wasn’t normally so dis-organised. They were extremely gracious and accepting of what I said. In part, that is due to the relationship I had built with them over the time that I had been visiting, but it is also due to the vulnerable position people are in when attending the funeral service of a loved one.
The service went smoothly and fortunately I remembered most of what I had written in the funeral address.
I had never done that before and I hope I’ll never do it again. My own grief over Diana was having much more of an impact on me than I had anticipated. That bit of forgetfulness was a warning sign to me to take care of myself.
Over the next couple of weeks I felt very fragile and my colleagues shielded me from some of the more traumatic situations in the hospital. The problem of a hospital chaplain grieving is that they can’t not be involved in other people’s death or grief as that is part of the daily work. One of the impacts of the strain of trying to remain professional whist feeling so vulnerable was that the forgetfulness continued. This came to a head when I had forgotten to tell my colleague about two occasions that I would be out of the hospital all day. On one of the days she had to come in on her day off. It was a trying situation all round.
Fortunately I had a weeks A/L booked already. The holiday really helped and gave me some space to just be myself. The forgetfulness has lessened but the effects of Diana’s death will be felt for some time I’m sure.
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