We made another long trip today. It was a round trip of 208 miles from DM's folk’s home in Berkshire to Barham in Kent, where my Nan’s funeral was held this afternoon. She was in her 96th year when she died on 21st April. In recent times she’d had a poor quality of life and we all agree that her passing will bring her relief from the problems associated with disabilities caused by several strokes coupled with dementia.
A few days ago I was asked if I would read a poem at the funeral as I am the oldest grandchild. I was at once both honoured and terrified. Although I am more than used to standing in front of people speaking, whether small people or adults, I have never needed to say anything so laden with emotion as on this occasion. Suffice to say I have borne the burden heavily and have not slept for days with worrying about letting the family down by messing it up.
This morning I practiced over and over again with my mother-in-law, who patiently let me fumble, fluff, and weep while I tried to get it right. She gave me some valuable tips – breathe deeply, pause and look around the room after every line and, probably best of all, don’t worry if I do “go under” just stop, recompose and then move on. I remembered her words as my hands shook and my voice faltered but I managed to get from beginning to end at a volume, pace and intonation that could just about be understood.
Strangely the day was surprisingly nice. I rarely get to see my family beyond the immediate ring of parents and sister’s family and every time we get together I am struck by two things. Firstly how we women all have “Nana Murphy’s genes” – my Mum and two of her sisters are incredibly alike and me, Jan and my cousin Sharon would again be put together as her progeny. The other thing that amazes me is that we all seem to enjoy one another’s company. Despite the sadness of the occasion, we left behind the sorrow at the crematorium and went to my Auntie Jan’s home for a cup of tea and a chat, and do you know what? It was lovely – a real antidote to the stress and sadness of the day.
My Nan’s life has been blighted by misfortune at times and abuse at others. Throughout her troubles though, kindness, consideration, humour and care in looking after her best interests have been carried out by Auntie Jan and Uncle Rob to whom I take off my imaginary hat. They have been utterly brilliant and the rest of the family has been able to sleep soundly knowing that she has been taken care of by them.
This is what I was asked to read:
She Is Gone - David Harkins
You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back
or you can open your eyes and see all she has left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she's gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back
or you can do what she would want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
RIP Eva Murphy. This photo of her is a massively important one in my gallery - not just because it it the last "happy occasion" I can remember with her but because it has been viewed more than 21,000 times since I posted it in 2003.
