You cannot lose what you hold in the heart

As summer came there were a few distressing things that happened and all became connected for me. A member of staff who I had begun to get to know was faced with the tragic situation of her husband being killed in an accident while he cycled home. One of her colleagues emailed me to tell me the news. I immediately wrote to her at home to express my sorrow at her situation. I received an email back asking me if I did home visits. Staff are as much part of the work of a chaplaincy department as patients and their relatives and visitors, so of course I would do a home visit in this particular situation. 

I went to see her and her two grown up daughters. They were all numb with shock. They spoke to me about their dad/husband, in the main devoid of emotion, because of the enormity and unexpectedness of what had happened. The member of staff knew I valued spiritual care and not just religion. She asked me if it was possible for me to take her husband’s funeral in a non-religious way. She explained that her husband was a staunch member of the Liberal Democrat Party and was a real thinker but was not religious. I said I would be able to carry out their wishes because a hospital chaplain is there for people of all faiths as well as those of no particular faith.

There was a slight delay in the funeral due to the circumstances of the death. This gave me time to think about how I was going to construct the service without the religious framework. I was gathering ideas but was feeling the tension of wanting to make the occasion a meaningful encounter for everyone and not water everything down so that in the end nothing of substance is being said.

While I was pondering all this, another funeral came in for the day after this one. It was again a death out of season where the woman had lost her battle to cancer at the age of 53. I did the funeral visit and got the families story but decided not to write it up until I had got the man’s funeral done. I didn’t want to get them confused in my head.

I had been working on the man’s funeral for about a week. It was the night before the funeral and I was sitting at my desk working on it and trying to pull it all together, I actually got up and paced a few times. I really wanted to do a good job but this was all new to me. I had never created a service like this before. One of the novel things that was to happen in the service was that the mourners were going to be given an opportunity to place a message on the coffin that had been written on a post it note during the service. The family were very keen for this to happen but wanted to make sure it was dignified. There was also going to be poems and tributes by former colleagues and Liberal Democrat members. I didn’t know how long these would last. I had given a time frame but people sometimes are not aware of how long it takes to speak the words that have been written. I had to somehow hold all this together and try and create something of meaning.

While I was sat at the computer I had a call from the hospital. A child had suddenly died in A&E. The family went to a local church and wanted their own priest to attend. Unfortunately the hospital couldn’t contact this person so they had asked for the chaplain instead.

When I arrived there was a large family gathering around the young distraught parents. The child was 21 months old. She had been in the department all day and had suddenly died. The family were swinging between anger at the hospital for not saving their daughter and complete disbelief. I stayed in the room with them and as more family arrived the emotional out pouring would start all over again. The family asked me to bless the child. I got everyone to gather around. It was a really hot day and we were in a small room in the children’s A&E department. The air was extremely sticky. I anointed and everyone else also took their turn in anointing. Whilst I gave the child a blessing the family held hands in a circle around her. Then one of the grandmothers asked if we could sing something. I said sure. She started to sing but nobody new what she was singing and couldn’t join in. She then said what else could be sung that everyone could join in with. There was a silence and then I suggested Amazing Grace. We all started to sing Amazing Grace. It was a beautiful moment. During the second verse people stopped singing. I guess they didn’t know the words or they might have been overcome with emotion. I was left singing on my own. I felt very exposed but thought it best to carry on. At the end of the 2^nd verse I went back to the 1^st verse and they all joined in again.

It was a moving and meaningful goodbye ritual for this little girl. What I needed to do was now create a situation where the parents could have some time alone with their daughter. I suggested this and everyone left the room. They asked me to stay with them and to say some more prayers. I did this. At one point I called the child by the name of another dead child that I had dealt with a few days before. I corrected myself straight away but felt awful and immediately felt my muscles flinch at my mistake.

The parents were on either side of the child’s body. Dad was telling her a goodnight story mum was in a crumpled heap on the floor. I sat on the floor with mum but she was quite distant. Occasionally she would grab my hand. I felt so helpless. In the end because the situation had gone on so long and I wanted to try and gently move them along, I said I would go outside while they said goodbye and goodnight to their daughter. Whilst outside I spent some time comforting the extended family. Eventually the parents came out and the family surrounded them and took them away to begin the enormous task of coming to terms with their daughter’s death.

I then spent some time with staff, who were also shocked and traumatised by what had happened. It was an unexpected and unexplained death. This would mean a hospital investigation as well as a coroner’s post mortem. I chatted with the nurses and then went to the doctor’s room. I encouraged them to go home and have a bath and a hot chocolate or glass of wine. I explained that it could all be looked at again the next day. They took my advice and I gave them a hug as they left.

I eventually got home at 1am and had to finish the funeral I had been working on when I got the call.

I crawled into bed around 3am. I was up again at 7am as I had the usual weekly baby funerals that morning. I did that and came into work and went to see how the staff were doing after last nights events. I then went to the office and took some time to just be with my thoughts and have some lunch.

When I arrived to take the funeral that I had been so worried about the crematorium staff commented that I looked different not being in uniform. I wore a dark suit with a yellow shirt to honour the man’s political leanings. It was strange because not wearing the robes left me feeling slightly vulnerable. It wasn’t drastic but I was aware of it.

The funeral went really well. The family were relieved that it was over and pleased that it had proved to be such a fitting occasion for such a well respected man. They were insistent that I come back to the house. I said I would call by later but I had to go back to the hospital first.

I went back to the hospital and saw a few patients and then had to write up the funeral service for the woman who had died from cancer. This was more straightforward but I was glad I now had the space in my head to think only of this service.

I called into the man’s family on my way home and had a drink with them and arrived home around 7pm. I was totally exhausted. I knew I was pushing myself too hard and that I needed to have a break. Although I had lots of support around me during my colleagues long-term absence, there was still an awful lot that could only be done by me as the full time chaplain. If I ended up off sick, that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

The next day, after the funeral, I came back to the office to discover an email from a friend telling me that a space had unexpectedly come up on a week’s retreat on Iona. It felt like a sign from God. I went and spoke to the senior manager who was managing me in my colleague’s absence and she agreed that I could have the leave as recognition for the extra responsibilities and work that I had been doing while we were short staffed.

I managed to get cover and had a wonderful 6 days on the beautiful Island of Iona. I came back refreshed both physically and spiritually and ready to continue with the demands of chaplaincy.