Between

[liv]

There's a midrash on the Mishnah which lists the deeds whose principal reward is in the world to come: ... visiting the sick, celebrating the bride, attending the dead, which says that if someone you love is seriously ill you should perform the mitzvah of celebrating a bride, as that is listed between sick and dead, so you kind of symbolically make more space between the two states. Two weeks ago roughly my grandmother moved on from being terminally ill to actively dying, and of course it was impossible for anyone to really predict just how urgently I needed to rush home.

During the week I had lots of responsibilities in the medical school it would have been really annoying to duck out of, though I'm sure I would have got permission if I'd asked. And at the weekend I had planned to go to a wedding with jack, so in the end I decided that I would go ahead with what I had intended to do anyway, and hope the timing would work out if I returned to my parents' place Sunday afternoon. So I travelled to Hastings late on Friday night (really annoying connection across London from Euston to Charing Cross, such that I ended up missing an hourly train by 30 seconds), and finally reached jack in a very quaint little B&B shaped like a brick castle. And in the morning we woke up and could hear and smell and see the sea, and that went a long way towards helping with being stressed and scared.

And the wedding itself was awesome, it involved an afternoon of folk dancing, mostly Morris dancing and related styles, at several locations along the sea front. It was really nice to be able to mingle with the other guests and watch the dancing and buy icecreams and chips and beer and it generally really chilled. In the evening we went indoors to a former church, St Mary in the Castle, a rather amazing venue set into the hillside. And there was more dancing, a mix of demonstrations and more participatory ceilidh dancing, and a pot-luck buffet, and some really touching speeches, and it was very much what a wedding should be, a gathering of friends and family who genuinely wanted to celebrate the couple.

I did in fact arrive in time to hold Granny's hand and say goodbye to her, though I really have no idea how aware she was by then. I mean, if nothing else she was physically quite deaf, even if she'd been mentally alert I am not convinced she would have been able to hear people talking in low deathbed voices. She seemed to squeeze my hand, and she seemed to be trying to give Mum a hug at some point very close to the end. In general I would prefer to assume people are present and their communication is meaningful, unless I'm really really certain that's not the case, and I was grateful that the nurses continued doing things like warning her when they were going to give an injection, even when they didn't know for sure she could understand. But equally I don't want to romantically project the communication I would like to have received onto another person, that's also disrespectful of autonomy.

I worked from home on Monday, and by Monday afternoon Granny still seemed to be entirely stable, so I decided to return to Keele, having no way to know how long this phase was going to last. In fact she died on Tuesday morning, so I should have rearranged things and stayed, but I didn't know that, and also I don't want to give too high a priority to being present for the last few hours of someone's life, rather than all the time we spent together in the preceding weeks and months and years. My brother Screwy had been present with Mum and Granny the whole time, and the rest of us sibs and our partners managed to get home by Tuesday evening, so we were all able to come to her funeral on Wednesday. Granny had chosen an eco-friendly woodland burial, where you use a biodegradable coffin and temporary grave marker, and within a few years there's just woodland as a memorial. Lots of Granny's friends from various parts of the local community also made it to the funeral, as well as some relatives, including relatives by marriage such as Granny's late husband's and my Dad's family. P'tite Soeur helped prepare food for the shiva, and Thuggish Poet composed and read a poem in place of the eulogy, and Screwy and Mum and Mum's brother all spoke movingly, and Dad did the practical paperwork needed when someone dies, and I likewise contributed the thing that I'm good at, leading the shiva prayers.

I wasn't sure if I should count myself as an official mourner or not; in theory you're not a mourner for a grandparent as opposed to a closer relative, but Granny had been part of our family for decades. In the end I decided that keeping a week of full mourning was over the top. So I stayed around at home on Thursday, saying goodbye to my sibs and uncle when they returned home, and trying to make myself at least somewhat useful to Mum who got stuck in straight away with cleaning and organizing even though she definitely is a mourner.

It was a really strange week, it felt like even before the funeral we were already turning Granny into a myth, which I suppose is how it works when someone dies, but still. We even had to pick out a Hebrew name for Granny, posthumously, in order to recite the memorial prayers, since Granny as an old-fashioned Liberal Jew had never used a separate Hebrew name. A name given by death, indeed, making literal that Zelda poem that often gets quoted at funerals. I don't know that Granny would entirely have approved of even that much ritual and fuss at her funeral, but it would have been really hard for Mum and the rest of us to cope without.

The other thing I wanted to say was that my partners have been so incredibly wonderful throughout. jack did so much just holding me and being present and understanding not trying to police my emotions and helping out practically with family stuff and even emotionally with the sitting with Granny in her last days. And ghoti cycled all the way out to the village where my parents live so I could take a break from sitting at the deathbed and play in the park with her and the kids, and then made food to contribute to the shiva, which cjwatson attended in person. Friday I went back to mine and jack's house, and in the afternoon OSOs joined me. ghoti helped me to make challah to take home to parents in the evening, and in between making the bread, the children played and cjwatson and I got on with bits of work. And in the evening jack and I went to have a Friday night meal with my parents, which was extraordindarily normal. Shabbat does that, I suppose, it breaks up the week of mourning, and of course it can never possibly be just a normal sabbath, but at some point you have to go back to doing things like making and eating meals and being in a normal rhythm again.

On Saturday ghoti joined me at synagogue, and everybody was really nice to me and I was a little bit weepy and it was really good to be able to join back with my community, and to have my partner supporting me. We spent the rest of the bank holiday weekend being thoroughly domestic, getting started on painting the children's bedroom rainbow colours, and cleaning up the paint that got spilled on the carpet and splashed on the people, and sorting things out a bit at mine and jack's house, and playing a bunch of games and watching The good dinosaur together. They say you should never partner your own spouse at bridge, but we managed a very good-natured rubber with the whole quad playing together. I should give credit to the children too, they've been so affectionate but also just refreshingly focused on their own concerns and generally incredibly good for me. I haven't actively hidden from them that I'm dealing with bereavement, but I also haven't sat them down and made sure they were paying attention and explained clearly that I'm sad because my Granny died this week, so I think my emotional stuff hasn't really affected them.

Anyway, I feel a bit emotionally numb in some ways, I haven't really taken in the idea that Granny will continue not to be there in the coming weeks and months. But I do feel very confident that all my people will be here to take care of me and eachother.

Comments

[seekingferret]

I'm sorry for your loss.

I thought this was a lovely post.

I also lost my grandmother the day after attending a friend's wedding, and found it trying and confusing but also in some ways a bulwark against the sadness. gingerrose's comment "How wonderful that you got to experience so much of the joy and sadness of life all in one short span of time! What a beautiful reminder of how full and complex life is." resonated with me, and I hope sharing it with you is helpful.

[liv]

Thank you for saying. I do find your quoted comment helpful. I suppose in my situation I knew that the wedding was going to end up being close to my grandmother's death, and I don't have any conflicted feelings about attending the wedding at that time. For me the weekend after the funeral seemed more joy and sadness in a short span, just being so happy spending time with people I love.

[seekingferret]

That's always confusing, too. Like, it's terrible that it's because you lost a loved one, but the way it can pull family and friends together can be wonderful. At my grandfather's shiva last year, my uncle, who lives in California and who I see maybe twice a year at most, had a long and involved and technical conversation with one of my father's friends. And afterwards my father's friend said something to my mother like, "I'm sorry for your loss, but I also really enjoyed meeting your brother."

[oursin]

Condolences and good thoughts.

[liv]

Thank you!

[forests_of_fire]

I'm very sorry for your loss. -offers hugs- I'm glad you have a supportive family to help you through this.

[liv]

It's very kind of you to comment with condolences and hugs, thank you. And yes, I'm so very glad of my family, both the family I come from and the family I'm building now.

[lethargic_man]

I worked from home on Monday, and by Monday afternoon Granny still seemed to be entirely stable, so I decided to return to Keele, having no way to know how long this phase was going to last. In fact she died on Tuesday morning, so I should have rearranged things and stayed, but I didn't know that

Yes, these things happen. A week before my mother died, the doctor said to my father on the way out "two or three more weeks", so I went to Berlin as I had booked months before, then I got the call from my father with no chance of getting back to Newcastle on time. But like you said, being with during life is more important with than being with at the death, provided there are at least some family members there.

It was a really strange week, it felt like even before the funeral we were already turning Granny into a myth, which I suppose is how it works when someone dies, but still.

Heh. After the death of my grandfather, my grandmother began to be known as "the Matriarch". When she died, my mother said during the shiva "I guess I'm the Matriarch now," and the entire family as one responded "No, you're not!"

We even had to pick out a Hebrew name for Granny, posthumously, in order to recite the memorial prayers, since Granny as an old-fashioned Liberal Jew had never used a separate Hebrew name.

I was a bit hesitant to say this, but given that you'll probably be doing this kind of thing more in the future, please take this as for future reference rather than past criticism: You're not supposed to use a name people didn't themselves use; if people don't have a Hebrew name you should use the English one, in the Hebrew framework. (L T-G's Hebrew name, for example (you can probably work out who this is), includes "bat Elizabeth".)

And in the evening jack and I went to have a Friday night meal with my parents, which was extraordindarily normal. Shabbat does that, I suppose, it breaks up the week of mourning, and of course it can never possibly be just a normal sabbath, but at some point you have to go back to doing things like making and eating meals and being in a normal rhythm again.

I'm sure I don't need to tell you that there is no public mourning on Shabbos. Does your shul/Reform Judaism generally do the traditional thing of mourners remaining out until after לכה דודי then being welcomed in with the traditional expression of condolence?

[liv]

Yeah, I know you're not supposed to invent a Hebrew name the deceased never used. When I've done funerals and especially stone-settings in Stoke I've reminded people that it's perfectly fine and indeed desirable to use an English name in the memorial prayer and to transcribe an English name into Hebrew letters and style for a tombstone. But it was important to Mum to have א-ל מלא רחמים sung fully in Hebrew, and she's the mourner so I didn't argue. But thank you for teaching me that cos you're right, I will be organizing funeral related stuff in future and it's important that I get it right.

And yes, I do know about Shabbat being a break in formal public mourning, that's what I meant about extraordinarily normal. The thing of mourners coming in after לכה דודי is I think not common in Reform shuls, partly because we don't have a clear separation between kabbalat shabbat and maariv. My parents' shul in particular basically just don't do Friday night services at all; they've had a long minhag that Friday nights are for families at home, which yes, I do have some glaring problems with, but that's how they are. That's not a Reform thing, though, that's just that particular community. Since they've opened the building, I believe what used to be the student-led egal minyan has moved to the shul. But since I'm always doing Friday night in Stoke I've not had an opportunity to attend. Anyway, in this case we went to shul on Shabbat morning where that custom doesn't apply.

[liv]

It's a shame you were given an incorrect estimate of how much time your mother had. I think everybody understands that death is unpredictable and people can't put their entire lives on hold for weeks or months. So yes, it's making sure someone is there, and making sure you nurture relationships while you still can, that are the important things.

[rushthatspeaks]

Her memory for a blessing, and may it lighten grief.

[liv]

Thank you, it is really comforting to have people come by and give these kinds of condolences.

[batdina]

המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלים

[liv]

Thank you. There is something very uplifting about being part of this really defined continuity of all the mourners.

(Annnnd now we discover all the ways in which my various bits of email software can't handle Unicode and BiDi properly...)

[lilacsigil]

Sympathies to you and your family.

Your granny's woodland burial sounds lovely.

[liv]

Thank you! It was very cold, considering it's the end of May, but it was the same at my wedding four years ago. And I do like the idea of a woodland burial, it's a way of giving the mourners a clear ritual and a marked space to remember their loved ones, without making too much of a big deal out of death or trying to establish something permanent. I am slightly bothered by the idea of being buried in Christian consecrated ground, though, so at the moment I'm not signing up for this type of burial.

[gominokouhai]

Condolences and good thoughts. And for what it's worth, thank you for the insight into your culture, which came as part of a beautiful post. I knew that shiva existed, but only because of that one episode of Babylon 5.

[liv]

Thank you! I wasn't sure if I'd explained mourning customs well enough, but I'm really charmed that watching Babylon 5 helped you to understand what I was on about.

[silveradept]

Our condolences. Hugs if you want them. These things tend to coincide in the most interesting places. My grandfather on dad's side passed within the first month of my moving across the country to start my first job out of college. So I learned rather quickly how much time one gets for bereavement...

Everyone will get mythologized some, I think, because after someone is gone, all we have left if then are stories.

[liv]

Thank you for condolences and hugs. And yeah, you just can't ask the world to stop for a bereavement, not even when you have mourning customs that imply it ought to. And yes, the person becoming a myth and a story is inevitable, and better than abruptly disappearing completely, but it's a strange process to see and be part of.

[silveradept]

That process is often made stranger by the fact that the stories that come out after death are ones that make your narrative go sideways. What appeared to be, say, a sweet grandmother with a magic cookie jar turned out to be that way because she wanted it to be so and everyone else fell in line with that.

[hairyears]

My condolences; and I am glad to hear that you have a full life to fill in around the loss, and supportive partners.

[liv]

Thank you, that is indeed something to celebrate. Supportive siblings, too, both practically and emotionally. It's common enough for adult siblings to find it difficult being forced together when a relative dies, so I feel especially blessed that we've been good for eachother.