When Freddie died, Max and I attended his funeral almost alone. We had just our doctor/nurse/midwife team and one friend as a witness, a friend who happens to bridge the gap between real life and those people who cared for us.It is hard to explain why we made that decision, except that I felt I couldn’t bear to take the girls and if they didn’t go it didn’t seem quite right to have any one else. That 11 day SCBU stay was a peculiar thing and the only people who felt real, were the people who got to know Freddie and care for us. And a piece of me was frightened that I wouldn’t be able to bear to see people who saw me on that day, so some people who should have come, including our lovely doula, didn’t get invited for just that reason. I was afraid of having people in both worlds. Even to invite Helen seemed a massive leap of faith really, but I knew she wouldn’t let me push her away afterwards and I knew the girls wouldn’t either. And I needed someone to be there, who could tell me in the future that it had been real. I needed someone capable of looking backwards with me, because much as Max is wonderful, looking back is not something he can do.
The other reason was that somewhere in the midst of all that, I lost my ability to be a drama queen. I can actually pinpoint the moment; I received a bracing, ‘it will all be fine, we’ve been there, it will work out’ message from a friend and I looked at it and thought “No… no. It isn’t going to be fine. But I can’t bear to tell you that. I can’t bear to put you through this with me.” Amidst all of the comforting and ‘keep positive’ messages I got in those 11 days, I could spot the ones who knew what was coming and the ones who thought that ferocious determination would somehow win the day and I just didn’t have it in me to deflate the people who believed it would all come right. I lost the knack of being obsessed with being the centre of attention, ironically right at the moment of deserving it. The piece of me that thought life was a stage where I could direct the ending simply broke and all the theatre left the building. I think that particular thing was exacerbated by a nurse telling me with great kindness, that I had been a person with dignity throughout Freddie’s life; it touched a chord. I want to be the dignified person he knew. I hope he knew.
So when it came to planning a funeral for my child, I was lost. All the bits of me that ought to have solidified into a grand gesture were not there. I didn’t want people there to see me cry. I didn’t want people to see me sad and broken. I didn’t want to be the one who tried to put on an act to smile and thank people for coming. Even in front of the nurses I failed drastically at that. I just wanted to be me – but at least they had seen me cry solidly for 11 days. Me weeping like a raincloud had been a kindly joke for most of those days.
The trouble with not having that event, a funeral, was that huge events do need an end point. As a friend pointed out, we have these rituals for a reason and I did feel we had missed that emotional goodbye among people to talk nonsense with us afterwards. Lacking the ability to use religion for it, I did want to do something and it always felt that his birthday would be the right time for that. But, having lost the knack for the grand gesture, I didn’t manage to plan anything, except to fret about the weather. I couldn’t seem to make it all sit together in my head.
Then last week it all settled into position. Max and I had a chat about it and decided it would be the right thing to make an occasion of the day; I went to a party shop and ordered balloons from a lovely man who was so kind and thoughtful that I will buy all my party stuff from him forever. Max came up with some simple food plans, the girls decided on labels to add to balloons and thanks to a comment on the blog from Emma, I went and got some bubbles for the children and picked up some crafty stuff to keep them occupied afterwards. And I let people know what we would be doing and asked them to come if they wanted to and could.
And everyone did.
I had a bit of a horror being hopeless and making a big deal out of it or dragging people through my process, so no speeches, not elaborate stuff, nothing to make anyone shuffle. We counted down and let the balloons go and they did just exactly what balloons carrying messages to a little boy should do… they went up, up and away 🙂
And much as I hate photos of myself, I think these say it all really.
We came back and had food and talked and the kids played n the garden and the adults spoke of trivia and laughed and it was exactly what I needed and afterwards, talking to Max and the girls, I knew it had been right for them too.
People left gradually, staying exactly the right amount of time, which was perfect too because they is nothing so comforting as friends who know when to be there and when to leave and when they had gone, I looked at all the lovely things people had said and done to remember Freddie and cried a bit and we all huddled down for a while.
We also gave the girls little copies of the acorn necklace I wear; Josie kisses my one every night 😥 but they all love it and thought it would suit the occasion well to give these on the day. I’m incredibly grateful to Rowanberry for her generosity in making these for me at a time that was also very difficult for her. *blows kisses*
In the evening we lit candles all round the garden and across the doorstep and left them to burn until they went out. It looked beautiful. We had sparklers too; it felt joyful, rather than sad, to do that and is a little link between him and Josie, our Bonfire Night girl who didn’t get long enough as a big sister.
I’m keeping these ones burning each night he was alive. It feels right. A small gesture, but enough.
I’m so grateful to everyone who came, especially as I couldn’t decide what to make of the day until the very last minute. You made it perfect.
Thank you.
That looked perfect, and I’m so glad it turned out to be just right for you *hugs*
Oh Merry, you did the right thing. We lit a Chinese lantern for my mum, one that we all wrote on and drew pictures on (well the children did), it brought me comfort in its own way and the boys were sending their messages to the sky. I have not yet been back to mums grave since her burial, but I will. I truly believe that you deal with these things any way you can.
We had lanterns, but Max bottled out after reading the instructions and wouldn’t let them go! We did sparklers though (should add that) which were lovely.
Beautiful, and so glad it was the way it was – yes, those photos say it all.
I’m so glad it was right for you in the end. I so wish I could have been there, but was thinking of you and carried you in my heart all day xxx
An important day for you all.
God bless
Debbie E
Have written three different things and deleted it pah…just…. *hugs*
thankyou for sharing this. A beautiful celebration for Freddie.
having been there shortly after birth and seen Freddie nearly every day of his life, I was very very grateful to go to his service at the crematorium. I wouldn’t have missed celebrating his short life with the balloon messages for the world. It was a lovely way to mark the passing of a year. Hugs again to you and family x x
xxx You were great the whole time and all the time since. And have been very understanding of my various ups and downs, especially at the time.
I too have written 3 different things and deleted. I am so glad you found the strength to do something after all your worries. Not only did you do ‘something’ you celebrated Freddie in such a fitting way, which I’m sure your husband, girls, friends & family are all extremely proud of you for. Hugs to you all. Cx
Thank you. I’m proud of me too 🙂
I’m so glad it felt right for you, and I do hope it brings you some peace. We didn’t get a photo as there was just me, but I bought a blue balloon in the hospital shop, and drove to the Wallace Monument and let it go from the top before going back to be with Papa – Bob said he saw it from the hospital window, it was such a clear day..
Oh Joyce, that was such a lovely thing to do. Thank you.
It sounds like you had a beautiful day x
It looks like a beautiful day. I kept thinking on Saturday how lovely it was that the sun was shining for you. x
Thank-you so much for writing about your day and for posting photos – beautiful photos. I am so very glad that it went well for you. xxxx
Looks like a beautiful day, the perfect celebration and farewell x Thank you for sharing
It looks like a beautiful day and the photos say it all x
Those photos of you make me cry: dignity and honesty are the things that come to mind. Well done on putting together a ritual that commeorated Freddie beautifully and brought people together who loved him.
I’m thinking of you all and Freddie every day until the 11th.
xxx Beautiful xxx
oh, they all came – all those blue balloons…. I was crying along with you, reading this.
We lit a candle in our little latern at dinner, and talked about Freddie and you all.
How perfect… weired word to use, and not the right one… but, so fitting, and lovely. hugs to you all xx
Beautiful. I am in tears again. I understand what mamacrow means – my dad’s funeral was lovely and it felt odd to say that. It’s the wrong word but there aren’t any right words, especially not for the loss of a child. xx
Thank you for sharing these moments of beauty and remembrance. Freddie’s memory is so beautiful held by you and your family. Thinking of you… with love
Oh yes, the photos say it all. Thinking of you Merry. Wishing he was here.
xo
well done Merry, it looks perfect! lovely photos xxx
It looks perfect. Poor you.
Oh Merry. So bittersweet. I’m so glad the day felt right for you & Max and girls, and that you had the support of friends that you deserve. I love that in all the photos you are still following his balloons with your eyes. Keeping you & Freddie in my heart for these 11 precious days. xxxh
It looked like it was a beautiful day. Thinking of you daily.
It was lovely of you to comment on Fran’s blog; I told her you understood how it feels and she really appreciated it.
Oh Merry – what a beautiful day for Freddie. I cried reading all the beautiful things that you did to honour him.
I thought of you all and it was my privilege to light a candle here for your little boy.
I read this the day it posted, but I was only able to read it on my phone and not able to come here to comment. I’m sorry this is so belated, but I wanted to be sure to tell you how beautiful Freddie’s birthday celebration looked. It seems absolutely perfect. I’m so glad you were able to have that, Merry. I’ve been thinking of you often and will continue to do so. xx