Finishing the job

Yesterday, about 6 months on from her death, we went and scattered my wife's ashes and I thought I'd share some thoughts with you all.

Melanie had asked for her ashes to be scattered at white horse hill in Oxfordshire where we'd occasionally gone walking. It's an Iron age fort and the white horse cut into the cliff is a famous image. It is delicate though and I decided to do this at Dragon hill instead which is a large cut off hill at the foot of the horse. Legend has it that St. George killed the dragon there and the chalk patch where no grass grows is where the dragons blood was spilt. It also has the advantage of having steps cut into it which meant that my mother was going to be able to get up there with us.

It was a brief but thoughtful occasion, my son took a handfull of ashes as did my mother and I but my daughter just shook her head, not really able to talk.

The crematorium ashes are funny aren't they, some of it is fine light dust like wood ash that blows away on the breeze but there are a lot of small heavier particles that fall and which mingled with the chalk and who knows the dragon blood. 

Half a year on now I still find myself occasionally forgetting and thinking that I'll ask this or discuss that with Melanie when I get home before I remember. I wonder if I'll ever go through a day without thinking of her, without remembering - probably not.

It occurs to me that the greatest loss is the shared culture. The memories, that only the two of you shared, conversations, experiences, jokes, little shared behaviours. You have the memory of them all but there's nobody to share them with anymore. There's no one to say - do you remember this or that? or to enjoy a further development of a shared joke. It's not shared anymore it's the things that tied you together now one of you has gone those things are just limply attached to you.

I guess theyll fade without reinforcement and other things,other behaviours cultures will take their place. In the weeks that followed her death I found myself reliving that last week thinking "three weeks ago we were at the consultants talking to that guy in the waiting room about lasers"  or we were in the ambulance or I was up all night, her last night. I think that stopped after about 14 or 15 weeks - a sign of healing.

I do start to wonder if continuing to be on this forum is a help or hindrance at first it was very healing but it is a real double edged sword as it is a constant reminder of what happened - for now I hope I am doing enough good here and there for it to be worth while but I may quietly slip away in a month or two before it becomes an addiction.

I don't know if anyone's followed this ramble through a mildly deranged mind if you got this far well done and thank you for listening   

 

  • Hi Graham

    Your post you wrote about your wife, from scattering her ashes to the feelings you shared with us about the loss of Melanie is incrediblely well put. If continuing to post on this forum is holding back your bereavement, let it go. You have done a lot of work on the forum over the last few months and have helped out many with your thoughtful and considered "feet on the ground" posts. Personally I would like to see you continue with your good work here, even if you only dropped in once a week, making a single post.  Kim

  • Morning Graham, I only joined the site last night but have spent a good while reading various posts - yours stand out as so articulate and full of empathy, with great advice and even a little humour. I can see you've brought a lot of peace to people, I hope you've been good to yourself too. 

    Amanda 

  • I still have Russell's ashes here with me in the house, I'm not hanging onto them in an obsessive way but I just don't feel ready to let him go yet. He died a year ago last Wednesday and spreading his ashes represents the final goodbye, to me anyway. When do you feel ready to perform this ritual, it's so different for everyone isn't it. I think that when we do it, we will need to muster emotional strength and even though it's been a year we are still so emotionally worn out. Thank you for sharing your experiences, there is comforting connection here

     

  • Hi Graham, I wanted to reply to your post to thank you, in case you do decide to stop writing or visiting. I found this page when faced with a very difficult time with my mum and your advice and guidance, particularly as Melanie had the same cancer and symptoms as mum, were so helpful and reassuring. At a time when you feel completely in the dark you managed to shine some light for me and my family and although mum passed away on 11 March I felt slightly better prepared having read what Melanie, you and your family had been through. I know it feels like just words on a page but you've made a difference to a lot of people on this site and you will be missed, but you have to do what is right for you. I took my sympathy cards down today, which felt strange but they were a constant reminder - much like this site is for me at the minute. 

    It sounded like a beautiful day for Melanie and one you will all remember fondly. 

    Thank you again, 

    Kat

     

     

  • Thanks so much all of you  - I'll be about and post occasionally but I do feel a bit that I'm repeating myself more now.

    Yes, taking down the sympathy cards is a bit odd isn't it? a bit like taking down the Christmas cards after Christmas acknowledging that real life is trying to edge in.

    I have been talking to friends and familly about the remarkable experience of being on this forum. Some of the stories that people have told will live with me for a long time.

    It is great when someone comes in full of worry about a symptom and you know that the chances are that they will be just fine and you can tell them that - and then there are people heartbreakingly coming in with familly in a bad way and you would love to tell them that it will be OK but that you have to say - look your job now is to make their passing as smooth and painless as possible.

    People share their feelings of regret and of anger and confusion and fear and love. 

    Its a remarkable site full of remarkable stories and remarkable people

     

    I only wish I'd never had to come here