Going Home…

It was with a heavy heart that we started our long, unscheduled journey back to New Zealand. Initially we were going to see my father who had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer but after a brief illness he died after a heart attack brought on by a blood clot and so our journey was to attend his funeral. At least now we were on the move as the waiting impotently in the UK was a torment in itself.

The non-stop journey was long and wearying but eventually we arrived and were greeted by family all in a fragile state.

It was the first time we had been to mum & dad’s new home and met their dog, Cleo, even though we had seen much of it via Skype on our regular calls. The most striking thing I recall after getting out of the car was the intense perfume from a Daphne bush near the house.

My brother and his wife had been a tremendous support to mum during dad’s illness and immediately afterwards and now that we had arrived we could take over as they had to go back to work. Our plan was to make sure that we did one of the necessary chores with mum and then do something more pleasant (go to the botanic gardens, walk the black sand beach along the Awhitu peninsula, have lunch out etc). 

An odd thing about the process is that the death certificate is not issued until after the funeral/cremation in New Zealand, and we heard (only rumour) that this was to counter cases of body snatching of dead relatives by Maori tribes wanting the body to be buried on tribal land. Nevertheless it means that most official business (such as changing names on accounts, probate if required, etc) cannot be undertaken until after this certificate is issued.

Mum and Gary had made plans for dad’s funeral before we arrived and had arranged to hire the village hall near to where they used to live in Waiau Pa. Caterers were hired, flowers arranged for and all the other many details sorted out before we got to NZ.

As dad was pretty much an atheist a humanist ceremony was opted for. Wine was to be served to guests as they arrived (and a glass placed on the coffin), and as his favourite colour was yellow daffodils were ordered and given to everyone either to keep or to place on the coffin before it left (also symbolic of spring and the cancer society). The only yellow balloons that could be found had happy faces on them and they had a habit of exploding during the ceremony causing a few to remark the dad was making a point about what was going on.

We had arrived earlier with a few friends to put out the seats (one hundred) arrange and dress the room with balloons and tables for the wine, memories and computer connected to a projector for the photos we had selected. A lectern was set up and the PA system checked. We went to Brian and Di’s to get changed and have a cup of tea and a bite to eat.

The pall bearers were Gary and I at the head, good friends from Waiau Pa Craig Follett and Brian Aislabie at the feet and old friends and business partners George Dyson and Clive Jennings in the middle. As we were going up steps and through a doorway into the hall with the coffin that had flowers on top we held it rather than lifted onto our shoulders. The differing heights and ages was also a consideration. No one tells you how heavy a dead body is, a dead weight indeed. So we shuffled in having to make adjustments on the steps to prevent the flowers sliding off.

The order of ceremony was;

-          Entrance “When the saints came marching in” Louis Armstrong

-          Toast

-          Welcome (Celebrant Wilma Brady)

-          Eulogy

-          Reflection in Photos

-          Open Memories

-          Musical Interlude “Exactly like you” Tony Bennett and KD Lang

-          Poem “Dear Friends” read by Diana Aislabie

-          Committal

-          Recessional “Going Home” Bryn Terfel

Gary and I had made arrangements to say some words together during the Open Memories section and we selected light incidents that would be personal to us:

-          Thumb Tack: A story from dad about his father’s prank of a thumb tack in horse muck on a door latch;

-          School Bus: Turned into a camper van;

-          Concrete Banana: his surreal response to be asked what he was making;

-          Sun & Moon: It must be dark where you are;

-          Kiwi Ingenuity: How was a maker and a doer;

-          Holden vs. Ford: The perpetual teasing;

-          Last Laugh: a reference to dad’s questionable sense of humour.

We both choked up on occasions but our ‘routine’ went down well and several others also got up to tell their tales.

One of the greatest qualities my parents had was the ability to make lifelong friends wherever they went and this was evident in the number who turned up. Even though we had a hundred seats out there were people standing outside. Family friends we knew when we first arrived in NZ were there, neighbours from when they moved to Waiau Pa and still more from their new home in Pukekohoe. Mr Levene who was their boss for a while turned up and Mary and Fi came to offer their most welcome support to me.

It was lucky there were so many people as the buffet was a fine spread and as many people mentioned dad would have loved the party.

During our time there we had several discussions about the manner of his going and in the end I tried to take what positive I could from the situation. The end was quick for him instead of the lingering and drawn out inevitability of the terminal cancer (and as mum said he would make a terrible patient). He knew we were coming and was planning to leave hospital to be with us. And personally even though I would have loved to have seen him I could think of nothing worse than to have to leave to come back to the UK knowing he was going to die. My mother and brother were not subject to watching my father decline in what I know only too well is a degrading and callous illness. My mother has coped very well with the support of family and friends around her she has kept herself busy with everything, kept going to clubs (with the assistance of neighbours and friends) meeting people, looking after the dog. My brother has been an invaluable assistance to her and rings every day, visits when they can and has helped with things like selling dad’s car (there were discussions about the car and mum’s failing eyesight that even went as far as contemplating mobility scooters, but as she is still able to get around and is closer to the town it was decided the car was unnecessary).

Our last task was to do something with dad’s ashes. Even though he did not feel any strong affinity to the church his parents are interred in the grounds of All Saint’s in Howick and he had expressed a desire to have his ashes there with them. So we contacted the church and visited them to make the arrangements which basically consisted of them taking down dad’s details. We turned down their offer of a priest and so they told us just to let them know when we wanted to turn up and warned us not to dig to deep in case we disinterred the earlier remains. DIY funeral.

While we were there we accepted an invitation to go visit some friends and we had a lovely meal with delightful company to distract us from our cares.

So the day came and we took dad off the sideboard in the carrier bag provided by the funeral home and with him resting on mum’s lap I drove to Howick. I must admit that I felt awkward crossing the road with a spade in hand and walking into the graveyard like a latter-day Burke and Hare. Having checked the location I asked if anyone would like to dig (I think we were feeling quite overwhelmed with the occasion), so I cut off the turf and dug down until I noticed grey powder. “Um, I think I am digging up grandma and granddad. Perhaps this is deep enough.” I asked Gary to take dad out of his box and he removed the lid turning it over the bag slipped out and fell on the path with a thud. I flinched glad that there was no priest watching. The paper bag just fitted in the hole and a scraped some earth (and ashes) around him placing the turf back on it. It stood a bit proud of the ground and Sue suggested I pushed it down a bit, so hesitantly I stood on the turf. After making a hole for the jar for the flowers and spreading the rest of the earth under a bush we all looked at each other. There were tears and laughter and some amount of relief at the end. It was a little early to go to the pub for brunch so we went into the nearby hall (where I used the conveniences to wash the dirt, and grandma and granddad, off my hands).

As the end of our time in NZ approached we discussed the future. We had already planned to come to NZ in December to visit family for Christmas taking time to tour up through the South Island. We were bring Sue’s sister for her 50^th and Jamie was coming too, so we figured one more wouldn’t make any difference and it seemed to make no sense for mum to be waiting at home while we were so close. So in the end we booked tickets for her to fly down to meet us in Christchurch and we will all travel together.

Mum and dad had planned to join a couple of friends on a river boat cruise through Europe and we had arranged to meet them with my Uncle and his girlfriend at Amsterdam, but they cancelled when dad became ill. During our visit mum did enquire at the travel agents if she could re-join the trip but there was not any space. She has since been in contact with a woman in Australia that they had met on an earlier European trip and it looks like they may go on holiday together next year, perhaps to Greece and England.

Eventually we had to leave but at least it was with the knowledge we would be returning on a few months time.

The journey back was again long and tiring and we arrived home early on the Monday with just enough time to have a shower, have some breakfast and return to work.