The best funeral services give us a real insight into the character and experience of the person who has died and give the bereaved an opportunity, not only to grieve but also, to celebrate the life of the person they feel the loss of. Recently I wrote and published a piece on ABCtales.com focusing on some aspects of grief and memoriam. Here is an extract from it:
Dead
Famous, Famous Dead
. . . .
. . . .
Because stories (of all kinds), music and other creative
outputs affect us emotionally as well as cerebrally it’s not surprisingly that
when an actor, singer, comedian, writer dies there is a certain amount (related
of course to the fame and popularity (or opposite) of the deceased) of public
as well as private grief. In recent months there has been a plethora of
celebrity deaths with the baby-boomer generation, the rise of ‘celebrity’, and
the easier access both to 24/7 news and public mourning, via the internet and
social media, all being cited as possible reasons for both the rise of and
responses to these events.
In reflecting on my own reactions to recent losses I I acknowledge that Ihave a good
deal of sympathy for Ronnie Corbett’s family, agree with others that Prince was
taken too soon, feel sadness at the loss of Terry Wogan’s wit and David Bowie’s
music and experience significant grief following the deaths of Alan Rickman and
Victoria Wood. Having re-watched the Barchester Chronicles and Robin Hood Prince of Thieves (saving Truly Madly Deeply for when I feel
stronger) and gobbled up the television tributes to Ms Wood plus various YouTube
versions of sketches she wrote and/or starred in I feel sadder still that there
will be no further creations from either of them. Just as sometimes it feels
impossible, despite my acceptance of the opposite, that I’ll never, see, touch
or talk to my deceased loved ones again, it feels incongruous that Wood won’t
write another funny, insightful song or Rickman won’t sneer or smile in that
sexy way that no other actor can get close to. And whilst I don’t believe I’m
the victim of what some might call pathological fandom I do feel that these
individuals, although I never met them, where significant to me. They made me
laugh and cry, they entertained me and gave me pause for thought, I respected and
took pleasure from their achievements and felt some connection to their humour
and politics.
When my husband John died I received a number of letters from
people (some of whom I had never met) that, in his job as a lecturer he had supported,
influenced, inspired. Similarly following my mum’s death several friends,
including several I had not heard from for more than 30 years, spoke or wrote
to me about the kindness and humour of my parents, highlighting their positive presence
in the lives of young people other than me. Further evidence I guess that of
the importance of those of us who live ordinary lives in terms of legacy and
impact on the feelings, identities and life choices of others.
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