Missing the dead body
Visiting friends in Scotland last week, I found myself near Leuchars, an army base that used to be an RAF station outside St Andrews. This place looms large in my mind because I heard so much about it from my husband Chris' Grandma. It mattered to her because in the first weeks of WW2, her big brother Graham, a teenage pilot, took off from Leuchars and was shot down over the sea. Like so many casualties of war, the family received the ambiguous news that he was missing, presumed dead. They never got his body back and they never had a ritual or a funeral to say goodbye.
In the twenty years I knew Chris' Grandma, I heard about Graham, and Leuchars a lot. Stories about him had a special quality - like he was still here, as a teenager - she talked about wanting to visit Leuchars to see the last bit of land Graham touched before he died.
It seemed to me that the absence of his body had left a vacuum, something deeply unresolved. And in that vacuum, frozen in time, this piece of land had taken on great significance.
This brings me on to death work.
I have learnt so much about the significance and symbolism of the dead body through my work with Poppy's. I have met grieving people who never got their dead person back. Some of these people went on to hold rituals and funerals, without the body, sometimes using photos and precious belongings. I wish more people knew that this was possible.
Poppy's often supports people who get their dead person back weeks or months after the death. In these instances, where family and friends have suffered through the not knowing, time with the body can be particularly important. To have them back, to hold them and to see for certain that the death has happened can be an essential and necessary experience.
I want to say this loudly and clearly because I have heard too many stories of well-meaning police officers, coroners and funeral directors standing in the way of this experience, based on the well-intentioned, protective but essentially incorrect belief that the condition of some bodies render them unacceptable to bear witness to. I have learnt from grieving brothers and mothers and sons and friends that it is not for others to tell them whether they can and should see their dead people or not, no matter what condition they are in. It must be sensitively and thoughtfully supported, but no body is 'unseeable'.
I also want to give a shout out here to our amazing colleagues at Missing People including Kirsty Hillman and Belen Pavani-Sattin who work so carefully to trace people who sometimes turn out to have died. The work of supporting people through that loss is delicate and hard.
Perhaps this is obvious but I'll say it anyway. Spending time with the body of someone who has died can be deeply helpful, and yet not everyone wants or needs to do it. But whether you want to see the body or not, it is essential to know where it is, to know for sure that the death has happened. I'm thinking about all the people who haven't had this clarity, who have been left in limbo, through war or for any other reason, who didn't get their person back.
Best books on death and grief
Did you know this Friday 9 August is Book Lovers Day? It's a chance to celebrate literature and reading. Poppy's has some great recommendations of books to help you explore death and dying, and for young children too.
And here are my top suggestions:
Grief Works by Julia Samuel. The best guide I've read that explains that grief is hard work, that it waits for us, that we can support each other through it.
With the End in Mind by Kathryn Mannix. Just a really sensible, sane reintroduction of death not as the macabre, morbid enemy, but rather as a natural part of life from the perspective of a wise, kind, experienced palliative care doctor who has seen a lot of action and knows what she speaks of.
Being Mortal by Atul Gawande. Surgeon Gawande argues for an approach to the end of life that focuses on quality alongside quantity. A book that makes you want to start the conversation now with family and friends about what matters most to each of us.
But if I could only have one, it would be Undying by Michel Faber. This is a book of poems about the death of Michel's wife, Eva but more than that, it's a giant love letter and it took my breath away, including this beauty:
'All I can do, in what remains of my brief time,
is mention, to whoever cares to listen,
that a woman once existed, who was kind
and beautiful and brave, and I will not forget
how the world was altered, beyond recognition,
when we met.'
And now I’m crying again….
Reverse-engineering learning
I was 28 when I founded Poppy’s in 2012. I had neither a diploma in funeral directing nor an MBA and the truth is I was probably a bit sniffy about both. During ten years of building and growing the company, I loved the experience of learning on the job and didn't feel I was missing any specific training along the way. And with three children thrown into the mix, I didn't have the time or brain space to engage in formal learning anyway.
But after Clare Montagu took on the role of CEO, I had the time to think about it from a different perspective.
I learnt so much so fast building Poppy's and I'm hugely grateful for that. But there are downsides to this purely experiential, pacey approach. There's no time for reflection. You rely on intuition a lot which can be a bit harrowing for your body. You're not ever quite sure if the path you're taking is the right one. It's a kind of flying by the seat of your pants.
So recently I've been taking some time to back-fill some of the gaps. I just finished @MarkRitson's MiniMBA in marketing and this October I'm starting a course in financial management. This is what I'm learning about learning later in life:
💡 It is thrilling to be in the classroom after 20 years. To have someone share their interest and passion with you. To have the time to digest and reflect. The privilege of getting to listen, rather than to talk and teach, is wonderful.
🧠 Everyone’s different, but for me it wouldn't have worked to have engaged in formal learning on the side whilst I was running Poppy's. My brain was full. I needed to get off the train and rest my brain a bit to get it back into the condition where it could take things in. I’m glad I didn’t try and do this whilst I was working so hard. It wouldn’t have gone in.
Have you found a space for later life learning and if so, what has it brought for you?
Okay friends, until next time.