Grief and Loss, Emotional and Material Concerns | Part Memoir, Part Rant

I am working on a few politically related pieces for this Blog (and elsewhere) at the moment. Not surprisingly I'm finding it difficult to keep up with the pace of events and concerns as day-by-day we see and hear more and more of the horrors of life in the twenty first century. For now, in this piece I'm keeping it simple and intend to focus on just one issue: death and bereavement. 

I write about death and loss a lot, as a sociologist and in more personal pieces including memoir and fiction (see https://www.abctales.com/user/gletherby for some examples). In my adult life there has been significant loss. My father - Ron - died when I was 20 in 1979, I miscarried my only (to my knowledge) biological child in my mid-twenties and my second husband John died early in 2010 following years of physical and mental ill-health. Two years later the person who was my main support and source of comfort throughout all of these experiences – my mother, Dorothy – died. Other extended family members and close friends have died over the years and, as I've written previously, I feel as if I have become something of an expert in bereavement and grief. In 2015 I published an article in the journal Mortality in which I wrote: 

I went to visit my mum and dad today. I took flowers. It's November and as I arrived in the village I was battered by rain and hail. No sea spray as the tide was well out.  My dad once walked with me along this road, worried that I might be swept away on my way to catch the college bus. Often we were drenched through to our underwear because of the windblown salty waves. Today the weather calmed during the short walk to the graveyard and as I was arranging the blooms a bright rainbow graced the horizon. The weak winter sun came out briefly and shone on the three of us. I took a photograph of the grave stone on the iPad on which I write my first draft of this piece. Although such photographs do not appear in family albums as regularly as pictures of high days and holidays, new babies and family groupings I feel sure I am not the only one to take and retain such images. *

I've just got back from a similar visit. Tomorrow (30th January) will be the fifth anniversary of my mum's death. She died on the eve of the 33rd anniversary of my dad's death. When planning her funeral I told the undertaker that I wanted to honour her wish to be buried in the same grave as my father; her husband. Luckily, the father of the man who dug my mum’s grave, himself of the same profession was a ‘deep digger’. If he hadn’t buried my father deep his son would have had to dig a new grave, elsewhere in the graveyard for my mum. My mum and I had just assumed that I would be able to fulfil her wishes and I know that most bereaved people are unaware of many of the expected and allowed procedures and protocols after death. These practical concerns add to the distress and feelings of helplessness. 

 

Here is the picture I took today.  

Just as I don’t think of my graveyard photo collection as morbid, neither do I think my continued interest in death and loss is ghoulish. My parents, my husband, the child I never met have all shaped me as a person and continue to have an influence on my life choices, chances and experiences. Not long after my mum's death I watched the 2005 film In her Shoes. The following poem, usually (as in this movie) read at weddings made me cry as I thought how appropriate it was for my lasting relationships with my loved ones:

with me E. E. Cummings

The first four lines . . .

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling) . . .

   And the last . . .

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart).

Some of my work and associated writings clearly show their influence on my head as well as my heart. For many years I have researched and written about reproductive loss and disruption and more recently about loss and bereavement more generally. I have previously reflected on funeral poverty (see Stomach Churns and Chewed Nails | A Summer of Discomfort) and on homelessness and death (see Dead Famous, Famous Dead | Celebrity (and other) Deaths and Some Responses). Today on my return home I intended to work on another piece I am in the middle of. Before turning on my computer I checked my Twitter account and came across an article published earlier this morning - Young and bereaved – and now facing cuts to crucial financial support - https://www.theguardian.com/money/2017/jan/29/young-bereaved-cuts-to-financial-support-12000

The author informs us that:

The government revealed earlier this month how the current system of bereavement support payments will change in April in order, it says, to modernise the structures.

Widowed parents with young children will be the hardest hit as a likely 91% of parents will be supported for a shorter period of time than they would be currently. This means that a typical working family will lose out on more than £12,000, and a working parent with young children even more; £23,500 on average (see http://www.childhoodbereavementnetwork.org.uk/).

The article continues thus:

"We are really worried about these changes,” says spokeswoman Alison Penny. “We fear for the stress this will place on parents trying to support their grieving children.” The charity predicts widowed parents may need to increase their working hours before their children are actually ready for their parent to be less available. It expects this additional strain on families will have a significant negative impact on children’s lives, resulting in worse mental health and educational outcomes.

Additionally, the Conservative government has also confirmed that cohabiting unmarried couples, including those with children, will continue to be ineligible for any bereavement benefits. And this despite recommendations in 2016 by the work and pensions select committee to extend eligibility to ALL families. 

Grief is hard work; for children and for adults. Dealing with the emotions it evokes, as well as the practicalities involved, is enough, more than enough, to cope with without having to worry also about how to pay for a funeral or to put food on the table or pay the rent. Shockingly, cohabiting widowed parents already have the additional concern of how to support their children whilst returning to work earlier following bereavement leave and working longer hours in order to pay the bills. Rather than righting this wrong the government is instead about to extend the worry further. 

Remembering my mum and dad this evening I feel sad. 

Thinking of those who will suffer as the result of the changes to financial bereavement support I feel angry. Very angry. 

                                                   *****

* Extract from: Letherby, G. (2015) ‘Bathwater, Babies and Other Losses: A Personal and Academic Story’ Mortality: Promoting the interdisciplinary study of death and dying 20(2): 128-144

Stomach Churns and Chewed Nails | A Summer of Discomfort

I have spent much of the summer feeling what my mum would have described as ‘churned up’. My finger nails are the most chewed they have been for years. My usual irregular midlife sleeping patterns are more disturbed than ever and I’m crying rather more than I usually do. Recently I took part in one of the social media polls that most of us come across every day. I answered the ‘Has the current Labour leadership election affected your mental health?’  honestly opting for ‘A lot’. Although, like many others, I get angry and upset by what I see as private and public injustices I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly anxious person. The almost constant mental and physical unease I have experienced for the last couple of months or so is very new to me.

As I sociologist I could write about (and support with references) the current misunderstanding of the ideas of Marx and Trotsky or the misappropriation of feminist agendas and anti-racist debates in attempts to score political points. I could also draw on social science discussions (some of which have become mainstream, others less so) concerning ‘media socialisation’, ‘false consciousness’, ‘emotional labour’ and so on. But I’m not going to do any of that for now.  Instead, a little more about me, my feelings and concerns.

I care about current and future generations. For example, although sadly I have no biological children of my own,  I care for and support, in various ways, the children and grandchildren of others in my personal life and through my work. Having had a father who died nearly 38 years ago of a heart attack and a mother and husband (plus several very good friends) who died four and six years ago respectively of cancer I care about the health and care needs of others, my own as I age, and of those that follow me. 

The majority of my working life has been spent with young children whilst working as a nursery nurse and youth worker and young (and not so young) adults as a teacher, researcher, mentor and manager in higher education (following a late degree supported by a grant). Currently, alongside continued academic work and some newer types of writing (including fiction and memoir) I also work as a civil celebrant (qualified to conduct non and semi-religious funerals, weddings, and other commitment and naming ceremonies). All my people focused work (which also included a number of jobs in the tourist industry) has been significant in my personal political education both experientially and through the related reading I have done. This week I have read two articles highlighting worrying concerns at both ends of the lifecourse:

Midwife crisis will 'let down' a whole generation of new mothers (written in 2013)

https://www.theguardian.com/society/2013/aug/18/midwife-crisis-lets-down-mothers

The NHS's chronic shortage of midwives will last into the mid-2020s, despite ministerial pledges to improve maternity care amid a continuing baby boom, according to new figures.

The calculations, by the Royal College of Midwives (RCM), suggest that the gap between the number of midwives the NHS in England needs and the number it now has will not be closed until 2026. The shortage is certain to force maternity units to close suddenly and lead to some mothers receiving inadequate care before, during or after giving birth.

The ‘cost of dying’ outstrips inflation as funeral costs increase 5.5% in a year year

/http://www.mindfulmoney.co.uk/mindful-news/the-cost-of-dying-outstrips-inflation-as-funeral-costs-increase-5-5-in-a-year/

Insurer SunLife’s annual Cost of Dying research shows that the cost of dying is the fastest rising of any fixed cost in the UK – rising much faster than any cost of living such as rent, food, utilities, insurance or clothing.

The overall cost of dying which includes death-related costs such as probate, headstones and flowers in addition to the basic cost of a funeral – has risen by 8.3% to £8,802.

The funeral – which makes up 44% of the cost of dying – has soared by 5.5% in a single year, a rise more than 10 times the increase in the cost of living.

The average funeral in the UK now costs £3,897 which is more than double what it was when SunLife first started tracking funeral prices in 2004.

***

I worry about these issues. I care about the people affected. I worry and care about prejudice, in/equality, safety, peace and more. Don’t we all? Maybe, maybe not? 

***

My recent reading has also included the following two pieces just this morning. 

The first: The fall of Labour’s golden generation

http://www.newstatesman.com/politics/uk/2016/09/fall-labour-s-golden-generation

Seems to me to be a lot about politics as a career.

The second: Jeremy Corbyn: ‘People say I should be tougher. But it’s not my style’

http://www.theguardian.com/politics/2016/sep/17/jeremy-corbyn-should-be-tougher-not-my-style 

Highlights (again in my opinion) that for some politics is a vocation.  

Of course my analysis here is simplistic and there is much more that can be said about each article but with the focus of this piece in mind it was the second one that prompted tears today. Following weeks (and of course it's not over yet) of mainstream and social media programmes, articles, posts and tweets full of misunderstanding, misrepresentation, personal attacks, bile; to read something so human disarmed me for a little while.

From the reading I have done and my social media presence I know that my own feelings are anything but unique and in concentrating on myself I make no claim to be any more, or even as, affected as many others. But still my stomach misbehaves. Will it steady following next weekend’s announcement? I doubt it. There’ll be more to worry and care about, more to challenge, much more to work for and on. 

Despite the last almost 1000 words in the great scheme of things me and my feelings are of little consequence. For as someone recently said:

Real pressure - real pressure - is when you don't have enough money to feed your kids, when you don't have a roof over your head, when you are wondering if you are going to be cared for, when you are wondering how you can survive, you are wondering how you are going to cope with the debts you have incurred, you are wondering if your lovely employer is going to give you a call to give you a couple of hours work or not bother, or change their mind when you are on the bus on the way to do that job.  

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/jeremy-corbyn-says-he-is-under-no-pressure-whatsoever-hours-after-angela-eagle-announces-leadership-a7128926.html

And, if I may add, real pressure is when midwife shortages negatively impact on birth experiences for all concerned and when people are literally too poor to die.