Farewell without a funeral
Their mother had been in Clare for months, doing the caring. So brother and sister, my old, old friends, were alone together when the news came that their grandmother was gone; there was no question of travelling to the funeral or seeing family. What can you do with death without a body, community, rituals — those first prescriptions for loss? No one was sure. I think we all felt there should be a real adult in charge, someone born before the 1990s.
They live 400 metres from me. On the day of the funeral, I came in the back gate, Hannah was at the other end of the garden: we looked at each other and smiled a smile that was also an apology, eyebrows furrowed. Hands, useless, flapped up and down before the intuitive theatre of the corona self-hug: hugging ourselves tightly, tricking our nervous systems.
It took a beat to remember that we were allowed to speak, but offering sincere condolences in a raised voice felt quickly ridiculous. I watched.
She bustled around: arranging flowers; laying out photographs and fragile old albums; some candles were lit in the midday sun; an appletart offering. A palm cross was triumphantly produced.
There was no funeral live stream from Clare, so, at noon, a bottle of Champagne was popped; this is what you do when the clock strikes 12, isn’t it?
Hannah played a recording of Grancy Nancy talking the last time she’d been able to see her, in February. Stories had poured out of her and we cocked our ears to listen: “Did I tell you about the woman who talked to me years ago, below in Kilrush?” Old, old photographs were passed and held up and the ink names on the back scrutinised, stories remembered or misremembered.
And then, I suppose, we pray? Do we pray? We take the rituals we have to hand. Because when there’s nothing else, no hands to squeeze and hair to stroke and cheeks to kiss — there’s saying the same words at the same time. I’m always amazed and appalled by how easy these lines are for me to retrieve.
From the other end of the garden, I got a good handle on Grancy. We make our own rituals, because we cannot do nothing. And I think that was enough for them, just for as long as it needs to be.