REMEMBERING ST GEORGE
APRIL 23rd 2015
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| Dad George circa 1960 |
As I write this piece it is 51 years since
my dad’s funeral and almost 2 years since the funeral of our little grandson
Harry who was born still and asleep.
I sometimes wonder why I write and whom I
think will read my pieces and if it really matters if anyone reads them.
I write because it makes me feel better.I also write because I want those close to
me to have something that shows a bit about me.
Mum always kept a journal but like me she
never finished one. She died nearly 5 years ago and I read her journals nearly
every day. They are full of events and memories that it would be easy to forget
and they show mums life through her eyes. They tell mum’s story. They are one
of the things that I would rescue from a “Burning House”
So I suppose keeping a journal or blogging
is my way of telling my story and maybe my children will enjoy reading my
account of my life as much as I enjoy reading mum’s story. So today I wanted to
write about St George’s Day. As I write I think about Mum and hopefully it will
become clear why St Georges Day is such a special day for me.
We always remembered St George’s Day as
children because it was the day of my dad’s funeral. Mum made it a special day
every year. We had special cakes for tea or went to visit a special park. To my
knowledge there has always been sunshine on St Georges Day.
Since mum died I have visited her grave on
St George’s Day and always take roses. She is buried with my dad in an
overgrown churchyard in Brampton Bierlow.
The churchyard has always been overgrown
and it is a place I remember visiting as a young child. Dad didn’t have a
headstone so we had to find the head stone with Jesus walking through a door.
That was my marker. Once I found the headstone I used to sit and play with the
green marble stones that were scattered in front of the picture of Jesus whilst
my mum tended my dad’s grave. For me it was a happy peaceful place. I often
wondered how it was for mum.
After she died we found her journals and
that question was answered.
Through her writing I know how she felt and
I can almost hear her voice as she recalls visiting my dad 40 years after his
funeral. I am reassured that she too found visiting the grave a comforting
thing to do and as an adult I can empathize with her feeling.
Reading mums journals inspires me to keep
writing and explains a little bit as to why I gain so much from keeping a
journal.
She wrote a piece 11 years ago. 41 years to
the day of my dad’s funeral on 23rd April 1964. In her journal she
writes about how she awoke to the sound of the birds and to bright sunshine.
She remembered the day in her journal clearly dated
“Friday April 23rd 2004
St George’s Day
I awoke this morning early and as I had predicted it
was a beautiful sunny morning. I lay in bed and looked at the blue sky and
listen to the sound of birds singing. It seems like a lifetime away from the
morning of April 23rd 1964. “
Mum talks in her journal of trying to keep
herself busy but even 40 years after his funeral she cannot stop thinking of
him.
“Forty years and I still have the same feeling. Did it
really happen? YES. My life is so
different but I am still the same. I think of the day forty years ago when it
was the day of George’s funeral. I still think of him as a young man, a loving
father and a good husband. My thoughts are with him most of the day. I try to
concentrate on mundane things like dusting, washing, making the beds but I know
that nothing will stop me thinking of him all day.”
George’s funeral was at 2.00pm and Mum
explains in her journal how she felt that day as she went to lay some flowers
at her young husbands grave. My dad (Gerald) tried to support mum but this was
not a day when he could comfort her.
“At 1.30pm I’m ready. I feel very solitary. I have a
small bunch of roses. Gerald is very good; he knows how I feel but says
nothing. At the churchyard Gerald starts to accompany me but I know it’s not
what I want. I looked at Gerald and explain its something I want to do alone.
He understands and walks back to the car”
Grief is a very personal thing and reading
mums journal makes me realize that there are times when you need to allow those
you love time to grieve alone, even 40 years after someone has died, you still
need that personal space.
As mum makes her way to the spot where
George is buried she describes her journey and explains how some things have
not changed but it is clear that on this day 40 years ago her world changed
forever.
“I make my way down the familiar path. I think how
green everything looks. There are loads of daffodils. It smells like spring.
It’s a smell that I always remember. Did I really walk down this path 40 years
ago? It is just as I remember: nothing has changed. The large imposing
monuments, the sounds of spring, the daffodils.
Then I see the grave of Ma Parkin (George’s mum) I
pause and I think of how she must have felt on this day 40 years ago. She must have felt so much pain and anguish
to bury a son at only 29 years old. I am so sorry I didn’t comprehend how she
must have felt”
“At last I am here beside the grave of Mr. and Mrs. Brookes. Their grave is my clue to George’s unmarked
grave. I couldn’t afford the luxury of a headstone with 3 little ones to
support, but a marker makes no difference to my feelings. As I stand and
remember its as clear as if it were yesterday. I talk to him of the family he
would be so proud of. I tell him about our daughters.
40 years ago they were with a neighbour. I didn’t want
them to see so much grief. I wanted them to remember Daddy as he was. Was that
wrong? I don’t know.”
It is nearly 5 years since my mum died and
I still make the journey on St Georges Day to lay some flowers on what has now
become her grave too.
Last year I went with my granddaughter to
visit Nanny Angel. I told her it was St Georges Day and we needed to pick some
special flowers. Ella Mae was only 3 but she picked a bunch of 10 pink roses
saying that Nanny Angel would like them. (Little did she know that pink roses
were the flowers that mum laid at her
husbands grave 40 years after he died.)
I smiled and agreed that pink roses were a
good choice. The graveyard is near Ella
Mae’s school and she knows the way to mums grave. As ever it was overgrown but
she found the grave with the green marble stones and knew that Nanny Angel’s
garden is the one next to that one.
Since mum died we have put on a headstone
but it made me smile when I saw Ella Mae playing with the green marble stones
and talking to the picture of Jesus on the head stone.. I wondered what mum
would be thinking. I remember last year
I started talking to her and telling her about Emma in Australia and
Adam still holding down a full time job. I reassured her that Lauren was OK and
that Dad was doing exactly as she said he would sleeping until gone 12 and
drinking lots of John Smiths.
In mums journal she talked to George
“Well George I don’t think we could ever have
envisaged our daughters being so successful. Pamela whose name you tricked me
into giving her. Well she is in America a marketing manager and still keeps the
Sanders name. Sharon, the easy going placid one who went everywhere on your
shoulders, is a teacher and Wendy is a wonderful homemaker living in Belgium. I
am at peace here with you and I feel you are with them all the time. Yes
George, I am shedding a tear but because of our love there are three very
special girls who have enriched so many people’s lives. There are grandchildren
to carry on the family feeling and through the sadness there is also happiness”
“I gently lay the roses on George’s grave – each rose I kiss as I lay
them there one each from Pam Sharon and Wendy and one from me. I look around
and I am glad to be alive for that means I can come again and tell George more
stories about our family. Its time to go but I have one last task. I make my
way back to Ma Parkin’s grave and lay one single rose on her grave. She was his
mother and she must have ached with grief on this day 40 years ago.”
This just confirms to me that time may be a
healer but it cannot erase the memory of the pain felt when someone dies, nor
can it fill the emptiness left by someone you love.
So even though mum is no longer here her
journal is advising me.
Through Mums words in her journal I am
reminded that grief and love are all encompassing. The strength of the emotion
ebbs and flows through your life and the older you get the more you seem to
understand it.
As mum left the churchyard she wrote
“As I walk slowly back to the car my thoughts
are with all those we have loved. The sun is shining I can see Gerald waiting
patiently at the gate and I feel lucky. I will go home and ring the girls and
wish them Happy St Georges Day!”
Tonight is the eve of St Georges Day and I
visited Dad Gerald. He continues to remain in the background and although he is a
constant cause of frustration I know he loved mum and misses her. I shall visit
him tomorrow and take some daffodils. I hope he wishes me Happy St Georges Day!
The forecast is, of course, for sunshine
and when I finish work, we will gather as a family and raise a glass to
St George and I know that all my children and now their children will realize
that we are really celebrating the life of our very own St George and all those
who will be partying with him in Heaven!
HAPPY ST GEOPRGE’S DAY
APRIL 23rd 2015
Has anyone ever told you that things happen
for a reason and you could just slap them in the face? It may have been after
being rejected for that dream job or realizing that the person you love doesn't
feel the same. It may be that you didn't get the grades in that test or forgot
to enter the lottery in the week your numbers came up.
This year is different she says. I
listen as she tries to explain her
emotions. This year my daughter and her partner have adopted a beautiful baby
girl. She is 15 months old and would not be part of our family if Harry were
here. She is so happy that her family is complete but feels so guilty for being
happy when she has lost a son? 
Harry will always be a part of our family
and this year will be the first year that his little sister will be able to
remember him. In years to come she will talk fondly of him just as his big
sister does now. She will visit his garden and lay flowers and maybe release a
balloon. It will be what the family does on Harry’s Day. We will not call it
his birthday as that is something that may be difficult to explain. We will not
be able to give reasons as to why he is in heaven but we will be able to say
that he brought us joy and he brought us his little sister,
