The details
The details of what happens after death are—like so many things—different here in the UK compared to what I was familiar with in the US. But living on a small island also means there are other differences, so I am not sure if I can tease out which is UK or which is small island life. For example, this island is a place where a LOT of the population have come to retire. As a result, they know a thing or two about post-death procedure. They are very efficient, unlike, some might say, fixing the roads.
Living with an aging population affects the housing market. Housing stock rotates rather more quickly than in other places. Many homes haven’t been as well kept up in their final years and need sprucing up and ‘updating’. A common phrase used in house listings is: “no onward chain” meaning that the sellers weren’t looking for another place to live before moving; they had already ‘moved on’. I don’t say all of this to be mean-spirited, it’s just a fact of living in a place where there are so many older people.
Like clockwork, the death process here ticks along. But this is also when living on a small island shows its charms.
The care home where Eric had been—and who provided such excellent care, and caring—provided a recommendation for a mortuary. The registrar’s office (and also coroner’s court) assured us that they could likely fit us in to sign the paperwork the same or next day after the medical examiner calls as they leave a few spots open for cases that need a rapid turnaround. This is important because we are travelling next week and need a few things done quickly.
Once we had selected the mortuary, not only did the mortician come to Doreen’s house (house calls!), but also within moments after setting that up, a pastor rang to set up his home visit for the following hour. During the visit with the mortician, he suggested that if we were considering cremation, we might want them to arrange it for the mainland, which has more competition thus cheaper prices. Who knew?
We were given a choice of three services: full-religious, some religion, or none at all. They provide the music of our choosing, and suggested poems if we don’t have any favourites handy. Because we needed to arrange the service quickly, they gave us their last spot at a perfect time. They even suggested the local pub just across the road is convenient for an after-service gathering. No need to move your car! Helpful hints all around.
It also turns out the family running the mortuary we chose are lifetime best family friends of the family that lives across the tiny close from Pete’s mum. The local newspaper that comes out each Friday was of course able to fit in our obituary with only a couple of days notice.
THIS is what life on a small Island provides: attention to detail, flexibility, personal service, kindness, and of course, pubs.
Many of you have been through this before. I went through this twice with my own parents many years ago, so this time it is a bit less fraught, and I am able to keep more of an even keel. Or I thought so, anyway, until I said something forthright and possibly less than tactful which is very much not the English way of approaching things. I bit my tongue and tried (again!) to remember to think first before speaking.
Last night we prepared the order of service for the memorial, which involved reading various poems and playing music selections for Pete’s mum to approve. We grappled with choices that honour the person we are grieving, alongside providing comfort and not too many maudlin words and thoughts for those attending the service. Since the service is for both purposes, we are trying to get the balance right.
As we played various songs to consider, I dissolved into tears, trying to hide them from the others, but soon Doreen was weeping too, from words she was reading. We tried another route, asking Alexa to play more upbeat songs, including various songs from musicals to set a more jolly tone. When “Sit Down You’re Rocking the Boat” from Guys and Dolls came on, we all sang along loudly, smiling and laughing. In the end Doreen decided maybe that was a bit too raucous for the Service. (I’m a fan of the more irreverent style and thought it was a great choice).
We’ve now got the order of Service sent off to the mortuary, have submitted the obituary to the paper, and are moving on to making sure the people we want to invite have all been invited. We still haven’t decided if we will go to the pub or elsewhere after the Service. There are only so many decisions that can be made in a day, for all of us.
Thank you for reading this week! I’ll have a re-run next week as we have a lot going on, including travel again, but hope to be back refreshed in a couple of weeks. Wishing you all much love and perhaps put on some jolly music whilst you remember your loved ones. ❤️
xoxo Sabrina
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I am saddened to hear of the death of your father-in-law, Sabrina (I have been away from internet for several weeks). The decisions you and Pete are making for his service resonate with us all. I hope the event is a success in all of the several ways that might be measured.
This was a lovely recounting of another adjustment a foreigner has to make and, more importantly, one to prepare yourself and Pete's family for a new stage in life. It reminds me that our children will have to do the same thing for us. It's a tribute to the island that the people and places make it easier for the family to make decisions and get the support and care it needs at this difficult time.