Another family I picked up through my regular wanderings on ICU were with a man who was told he would die 25 years ago. Back then he’d had a massive heart attack and as a result some of his bowel was deprived of oxygen and died. The man ended up with most of his bowel being removed. His wife was determined that he would get better and used to crush up small spoonfuls of biscuit to get something in to him. Much to the doctors amazement he pulled through. He then managed to live cheerfully with chronic diarrhoea for the next 25 years. However, this admission was different and he was not to pull through. The family were distraught because he had always been such a fighter. I was privileged to be asked to take his funeral. It was the first time that someone said to me they wanted a fairly traditional service but they didn’t want the words ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
I remember that day being really bitterly cold. I was shivering as I stood at the graveside. When it came to lowering the coffin, the man’s wife walked away. She just couldn’t face it and didn’t want to see it go in the ground. She wanted to come back once it was all covered up.
A few months after her husband died the woman’s elderly mother also died. This opened up her husband’s bereavement all over again. We sometimes complain about how life is hard but I am constantly humbled by the life experiences that people have and choose to share with me. I was also asked to take the mother’s funeral. It’s hard when the only times you see people are at the sad events in their lives. I often bump into people who burst into tears because I remind them of some bereavement or another. I don’t take it personally and just give them a hug until the little plops of love that are falling for their loved ones dry up.
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