Rather morbid title, but it’s going to be a rather morbid topic. Death. It happens. Everyone’s going to experience it at some point. I’ve been lucky enough up until this July to never really experience a death which particularly affected me, which as a nineteen year old is pretty good. On 12th July my granny sadly died, a rather amusing date for those who live in Northern Ireland as she was indeed Protestant and there was a few jokes about chasing Popes out of heaven made at the wake and funeral. This death was the first I felt where I was truly upset, it still upsets me months on and I doubt it’ll ever not upset me that I lost such an influence on my life. Just about ten minutes ago I was getting out the Christmas cards I snatched from Granny’s house when we were clearing it out and I found lists of things she needed to do for Christmas in the box and it had me a little weepy, which is why I’m writing this right now.
The funeral was probably the best funeral I’ve ever been to (rate it 10/10 would attend again #FUNinfuneral), it was a celebration of the life of a truly amazing woman and very little about pushing religion on non-religious folk, which I have heard about being quite common in some churches. Towards the end when the funeral was over and we were about to go down to the hall to talk with everyone (or in my case stuff my face with food until I felt a little bit sick and no longer completely fitted into my size 4 dress) the minister said something to me which really left a profound impact on me “Live life the way she did”, this surprised me because 1. I have never really heard this minister say anything quite as deep as that and have heard him make a total of six jelly jokes and 2. It was completely unexpected and I wasn’t actually talking to him, but nevertheless I appreciated it and it really got me thinking (while stuffing my face of course). My granny never liked people taking pictures of her, which I thought was really sad because there is very little solid proof to remember that she existed. Then I thought about all the amazing things she had done throughout her life. She was supportive, kind, helped out everyone and anyone in need and was always proud of her family no matter what choices they made. She made dish clothes (lots and lots of dish clothes) to send away to people in foreign country’s as part of little packages and as gifts for people (I was nearly forced out the door with one every time I went over to her house, which while I wish I went more often I went often enough that we have a pretty sizable collection)
This is what has made me want to help people out more and raise money and awareness for charities (I hope you all appreciate the nice segway into a topic more related to this blog). And related to that I am doing a 10k run tomorrow (which will be a miracle if I complete as I have the worst chesty coughy thing but I’ll give it my best shot) for the Mark Pollock Trust (which I suggest you all check out as it is an amazing charity) and I have received my little marathon pack from Cancer Research with a snazzy t-shirt included. I’m under no illusion that this makes me the Mother Teresa of donating to charity as realistically I love running, I am passionate about these charities and in a way helping keep my granny’s memory alive by doing these things. Although I will admit that I am proud of myself for doing them and I truly do believe I am living the life the way she did.
Thanks!