Adapted extracts from two letters to the Natural Death Centre.
On October 10th '96, my 6 year-old daughter, Rosie, died suddenly of meningitis. We were confronted immediately with what do we do now? The thought of burying her on church ground, far from friends and home seemed an alien idea. We wanted her to be close by, near us, somewhere she would want to be. Thankfully, we have a friend who owns a piece of land, once used for the hop-pickers in days gone by. It is small, beautiful and a meeting place for friends. It seemed ideal, especially as only weeks before her death, Rosie and I had participated in a celebration on the land, marking the creation of a newly-made labyrinth.
Our initial request for burying Rosie was met with a yes and approval, but as the realisation of our proposal dawned upon him and his family, fear crept in and he was confused and concerned as to what the repercussions might be. Thoughts of the tabloid press ran through his head and he became worried about the legality of it all. I am so grateful to the Natural Death Centre who gave me the information, inspiration and courage to persist in what I believed was right for Rosie and to stay with my gut feeling.
During the final discussion about should we or shouldn't we - and bear in mind this is just a few days after her death - alternative ideas were being put forward, ie church burial, then a celebration on the land. I was overcome with emotion and found myself lying on the grass kicking and screaming, having rushed from the room where we were discussing what to do.
The noise that came from me, out of the depths of my being, felt as if it came from somewhere in the past - and it was at this point that the fear was felt and the decision made. Rosie would be buried there, and a beautiful garden would grow from her. She would lay at rest in a place that was fitting for the love she brought to all of us - a place among friends.
I am so thankful we did what we did. It was just as it was meant to be, doing everything ourselves. When I say we, I call upon the countless friends who supported us during that time of shock and counter-shock.
A room was prepared for her little body, so friends - grown-ups and children - could say their goodbyes - a room decorated lovingly with pictures drawn by her friends, photographs and small meaningful objects.
The grave was dug and decorated with tears, care and love. Beautiful things were everywhere, dream catchers, ribbons, incense.
The children played, cried, touched Rosie and did not have fear in their eyes. They were vigorous helpers in filling in the grave, putting in little items such as a teddy bear, an apple, little clay people.
We held hands, 150 people, in a circle young and old - we sang, we danced, we played drums, we cried, we shared our sorrow and we felt, all of us, the limitless love that was present. We let 21 white balloons fly free, symbolising the departure of her soul, and then we lit a fire, a big, big fire, and celebrated Rosie's life. All that she had given, all the joy, all her teachings - such was the light she had.
We were a family of friends, gathered together with love for one reason, burying Rosie.
It was a beautiful day - and all who were there, will never forget the beauty of death.
Three months later and the pain and loss I feel is enormous - 38 years of denial is quite a bit of grief to catch up on. Now I can only feel - tears flow freely - I am learning not to be ashamed of them. They are a gift to me and others - grief is such a positive emotion - we see it and feel it so little - denied as it is in our culture - that I feel I am blessed to be able to share it.
I can see in bygone days how grieving mothers were institutionalised - for at times I am really crazy - but the pain has to be felt, and if it means shaking and wailing and throwing myself about on the floor, then I will do it - for this death was not for nothing, this death was not in vain.
This webpage forms part of the Global Ideas Bank (www.globalideasbank.org).
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