Surviving the Funeral Wake

Every part of this sucks

I hadn't realised, I didn't appreciate, there was no way of knowing, that this final part would still be such a climatic ordeal. On the face of it, just a gentle goodbye, after all, six months have gone under the bridge since my father died!

Mental bleeds into physical wellbeing

My first announcement that all was not well, getting physically unwell again, the depths of grief transforming a common cold into a vicious virus. With not only my body feeling ravaged, but my mind also. Drowning internally and externally in snot, anger and tears. Mental wellbeing intrinsically linked to physical wellbeing.

Drowning in grief

But still I didn't acknowledge the grief for what it was, instead choosing to blame my own body, sick of being sick. This took a nasty toll on my mental health and wellbeing, more feelings of entrapment, buried by my responsibilities, unfit and incapable, not fit for purpose. Dark longings for an ending to all the pointless, laboured effort, all the ceaseless failures, on every level. 

The agony of loss

Actually, below those dark feelings, an unsatiated hunger to be with you again, Daddy's little girl. Just to see you, hug you, be in your company, how strange is that. How can I feel closer to you now you're dead? Don't worry, I'm in therapy for all this madness, I am actually navigating through this sea of tragic emotion, sort of... But you know that don't you! Thank goodness for words!

Don't want it to be over

Though, the second sign, I'm unable to write the words I want to say at your wake? Not that they're not there, maybe, just that I'm holding them back behind a fortressed door. I don't want to let them out and the wake to be over, the final goodbye. I don't feel ready, I want you to remain suspended between death and the next level up, where I can know you are there. When your energy is finally released, what's left? What can I hold onto? Will you even be my Dad anymore?

A child's clarity

I asked Alanna, what shall I say? She said, just say goodbye, after all he's gone, you'll never see him again. Out of the mouths of babes eh! It's that never see again part, it gets me every time. Once again, I feel full of this fearful sickness, I just didn't recognise it, the hell of loss.

The truth of my loss

Now I've bared my soul again, everyone at the wake will know that the brave face their looking at is merely projection... Tho, I am secretly hoping that by writing this all down, thus facing my fears, I can move them to the side and find the peace to write the words I want to say.

Final word

I chose not to speak at my father’s wake, it turned out that I’d said enough publicly and the rest I preferred to keep privately between us. I did survive it, trapped behind a sheet of ice, present but not really there. I relied copiously upon my essential oils, liberally coating myself in Rose, Lavender and Peppermint essential oils to manage my mental, physical and spiritual wellbeing. That’s what I love about essential oils, they are easy to use, their effect is immediate and they provide holistic relief and support. Please do get in touch if you would like support for your wellbeing.

Next step

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