what happens when … your best friend dies?
What happens when …your best friend dies?
It's devastating, isn't it?
In my work as a celebrant, I often hear these words: my mum was my best friend. So, not only has a daughter or son lost a parent, they have also lost their friend. The expansiveness of grief can feel insurmountable: you must suddenly change direction and consider life from a totally different angle: one which you have no prior experience of. Your mum, who was your best friend, is now gone and you must try to do this alone.
Help me ... this funeral seems so hard!
I meet sisters Tricia and Angela at Tricia’s flat in Broxbourne. We sit at the kitchen table, mugs of tea in front of us and I ask them to tell me a little bit about their mum, Pam. I learn that she died a week ago from pancreatic cancer: the diagnosis was a shock, following tests for what Pam believed to be kidney stones. She had accepted every type of intervention: chemotherapy and radiotherapy but just three months later, Pam’s body could no longer tolerate the disease, and she died at home, surrounded by the family.
“She was my best friend,” says Tricia, “She’d do anything for you. Anything. She’d come over at three in the morning to look after Alfie when he was playing up. She was always there at the school if there was a problem. She was the best mum in the world.”
How I can help ... tea, empathy, reflection and connection
So, how can I help bereaved families in this situation? In Tricia and Angela’s case, I invite them to tell me about their mum, to recount her story and in the telling, there are smiles as well as tears but as they speak, a lightness comes into the room. And once they get started with one story, they recount another and another until I can visualise Pam as a mum, Pam as a nan, Pam who worked her whole life and Pam the party animal who loved meeting up with her friends at the social club.
Little by little, I find that through their grief, people can experience moments of pure joy in the recounting of a story and the telling of an anecdote. Tricia and Angela share photos with me and I feel honoured to be taken on this tour of their mum’s life: the family has the power to curate the service, so by listening to the sisters tell the story, I can build a picture – not just a picture of achievements, but more importantly, a picture of the loving relationships that shaped their lives.
I ask the sisters for some details: Pam’s place of birth, her schooling and her jobs and her significant relationships. Sadly, I know what it is to have lost my own mother but I don’t know what it is to have lost Pam, a best friend. For Tricia and Angela, the enormity of their loss has not yet hit home.
Let's work together to express your grief through love
I write notes as they tell me about their mum and after about two hours, and two more cups of tea, I feel I have enough information to make a start on Pam’s Celebration of Life.
“I was scared about you coming round and going through what happened to mum,” Angela shares with me, “but now that we’ve talked about her, I feel a bit better.”
How can I help you?
Together let's talk about how to create a unique ceremony to celebrate the person you loved: all they were, all they stood for and how they will be remembered.
Thank you,
Ruth
Ruth Silverstone
Humanist Funeral Celebrant - working throughout Essex, Hertfordshire and Greater London
Professionally Accredited to conduct Humanist Funerals by Humanists UK
ruth.silverstone@humanistceremonies.org.uk
07779 719 562
