A visit to the in-laws to mark a loss
Dec. 20th, 2009 11:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgA big hello to any in-laws who've managed to find this. Whatever happens below, I love you all.
I've just returned from a trip to Adelaide for the occasion of the funeral for Husband's mother G. I've been over there 3 or 4 times, and various family members have visited Perth over the years, so I'm reasonably familiar with the clan. My role was to act as passive support for Husband as he, his father, brother and sister worked on the wording for the eulogies and the music for the service.
Although Husband and I discussed these things privately, my best contribution was to stay out of the way and not "help". Hence my new familiarity with the family pets. Husband apologised once or twice in case I was feeling left out, but it was fine by me. I took my socially disasterous organisational urges away.
It was very strange to see Husband in a family group. He is so very much the youngest son, where I've only really ever seen him as an equal, a friend, a colleague. A grown up. He does Uncle very well having had a chance to practice it here.
I've always known about his strong resemblance to his father which unsurprisingly has increased with time passing and hair falling, but watching them eat side by side in armchairs watching the news was almost uncanny. Having three family males together in one room trying to organise something was close to surreal.
Perhaps for this reason I feel a new and strong kinship to my sister-in-law S, who also chose to marry one of these strange creatures. She is practical and brisk, funny and intelligent. I felt for perhaps the first time a closer kinship with MIL G, who was the first to marry one of these strange boys. Although less brisk in her later years, she was the practical one with humour, sometimes scatty intelligence and creativity in the mix, to balance the quiet humour, peace and otherworldliness of our mates.
Prior to the funeral was an opportunity for a viewing. I chose to not look because I knew that she was a mere shadow of the warm round lady she'd been in life, and I preferred to remember her that way. I also had no need to challenge a sense of disbelief, or had a need for closure. Husband did look, because the truth of it hadn't really caught up with him yet, but it wasn't a success. She didn't look like herself at all. When he came out I felt privileged that he asked for my comfort, and I was glad I'd made the journey to be with him at that moment.
The funeral itself was the kind of modest service you might expect for a matriarch with no religious attachments. The important parts were the eulogies read by her three surviving children, and some of the grand-daughters' words read by the celebrant. They were good eulogies: I learned some new things about G's early life, work and marriage, and heard some old familiar stories. There were a few chuckles, many nods, and some sad smiles.
Husband's family are by no means demonstrative, and so it was some relief that I saw some quiet tears during the service. It sounds shocking, but I wanted to see Husband suffer, to know that he was working through the pain that I knew he felt and which he'd demonstrated in unconscious ways. So it was a good funeral in that sense, but my attention was drawn to Husband's father P who had lost his wife of 62 years. He is surrounded by love and support across several generations, but his is alone now in a way that only time can inflict, or heal.
The afternoon concluded with an afternoon tea, exchange of anecdotes, and attempts to identify people in photos. There were 3 or 4 conversations going on at once, and in hindsight I realised that the gathering felt very much like one of my family's. I don't think I did much talking, but I wasn't the tightly-wound bundle of electric nerves I might have been a few years ago.
I have three more nieces in this branch, who are all amazingly attractive, intelligent, and lovely young women. I hope to see more of them as they grow into their lives. One day they'll make me a Great Aunt :-) In the meantime they are my friends on Facebook.
I am so proud to have married into this clan. You've been challenged more than once, but are strong, and will survive this great loss as part of the inevitable changing of the guard forced on us all by time. I will see you all again.
I've just returned from a trip to Adelaide for the occasion of the funeral for Husband's mother G. I've been over there 3 or 4 times, and various family members have visited Perth over the years, so I'm reasonably familiar with the clan. My role was to act as passive support for Husband as he, his father, brother and sister worked on the wording for the eulogies and the music for the service.
Although Husband and I discussed these things privately, my best contribution was to stay out of the way and not "help". Hence my new familiarity with the family pets. Husband apologised once or twice in case I was feeling left out, but it was fine by me. I took my socially disasterous organisational urges away.
It was very strange to see Husband in a family group. He is so very much the youngest son, where I've only really ever seen him as an equal, a friend, a colleague. A grown up. He does Uncle very well having had a chance to practice it here.
I've always known about his strong resemblance to his father which unsurprisingly has increased with time passing and hair falling, but watching them eat side by side in armchairs watching the news was almost uncanny. Having three family males together in one room trying to organise something was close to surreal.
Perhaps for this reason I feel a new and strong kinship to my sister-in-law S, who also chose to marry one of these strange creatures. She is practical and brisk, funny and intelligent. I felt for perhaps the first time a closer kinship with MIL G, who was the first to marry one of these strange boys. Although less brisk in her later years, she was the practical one with humour, sometimes scatty intelligence and creativity in the mix, to balance the quiet humour, peace and otherworldliness of our mates.
Prior to the funeral was an opportunity for a viewing. I chose to not look because I knew that she was a mere shadow of the warm round lady she'd been in life, and I preferred to remember her that way. I also had no need to challenge a sense of disbelief, or had a need for closure. Husband did look, because the truth of it hadn't really caught up with him yet, but it wasn't a success. She didn't look like herself at all. When he came out I felt privileged that he asked for my comfort, and I was glad I'd made the journey to be with him at that moment.
The funeral itself was the kind of modest service you might expect for a matriarch with no religious attachments. The important parts were the eulogies read by her three surviving children, and some of the grand-daughters' words read by the celebrant. They were good eulogies: I learned some new things about G's early life, work and marriage, and heard some old familiar stories. There were a few chuckles, many nods, and some sad smiles.
Husband's family are by no means demonstrative, and so it was some relief that I saw some quiet tears during the service. It sounds shocking, but I wanted to see Husband suffer, to know that he was working through the pain that I knew he felt and which he'd demonstrated in unconscious ways. So it was a good funeral in that sense, but my attention was drawn to Husband's father P who had lost his wife of 62 years. He is surrounded by love and support across several generations, but his is alone now in a way that only time can inflict, or heal.
The afternoon concluded with an afternoon tea, exchange of anecdotes, and attempts to identify people in photos. There were 3 or 4 conversations going on at once, and in hindsight I realised that the gathering felt very much like one of my family's. I don't think I did much talking, but I wasn't the tightly-wound bundle of electric nerves I might have been a few years ago.
I have three more nieces in this branch, who are all amazingly attractive, intelligent, and lovely young women. I hope to see more of them as they grow into their lives. One day they'll make me a Great Aunt :-) In the meantime they are my friends on Facebook.
I am so proud to have married into this clan. You've been challenged more than once, but are strong, and will survive this great loss as part of the inevitable changing of the guard forced on us all by time. I will see you all again.
