101 Ways to Cope with Losing Elderly Parents #17~ To Thine Own Self be True

November 15 was always a very significant day in my parent’s lives as they got married on November 15, 1948.

They both lived to see their 60th anniversary in 2008 and this is now the fourth since Father died. While there were never any major parties or the like, they always marked their Anniversary by exchanging presents and by going on some sort of outing ~ maybe lunch out or a picnic by the sea if the weather was fine.

I’ve struggled with November 15th since Mother died in 2oo9. It’s a date that’s etched in my life calendar because of the ‘ceremony’ that always surrounded it and  the recalling of memories of that day that they tied the knot.

I wrote about possible plans for the day last year but in the end I didn’t do much more than write ~ I simply wasn’t able. I just wasn’t emotionally ready.

This year I felt different and I spent some lovely time today in celebrating a marriage that was fundamentally important to giving me life itself.

I was rather surprised to find that November 15th in 1948 fell on a Monday. I don’t know if Monday weddings were more common back then than they are now. I don’t know of any other couple who got married on a Monday!

Annestown Beach, Co. Waterford

So, I made my way to Annestown Beach this morning; had the obligatory cup of coffee, a paddle and carved a little memorial in the sand.  It all felt so right and the gorse was in full bloom out around there ~ when the gorse is out of bloom, kissing’s out of season. 

Gorse at Annestown, Co. Waterford

Today seemed just the right day to buy my snowdrop and hyacinth bulbs ~ always such symbols of hope and inextricably linked to this time of year, especially for Mother.

On the way home, I decided to call into The Majestic Hotel here in Tramore. That’s where Mother and Father had their wedding reception. The hotel has been rebuilt since those days as you can see from the following photos:

The Majestic Hotel
Source: Waterford Co. Museum

Even though the buildings are different, I half expected to see the wedding party arrive into the hotel as I was sitting there sipping my latte.

Tramore Beach that was so special to both Mother and Father and where we shared so, so many precious hours, days and moments was my last stop.

There is was, just as it was back in November 1948, being watched over by the Metal Man and whispering its everlasting words of love.

Tramore Beach, Co. Waterford

In conclusion, I would say from my experience, that the grieving process is very different for each individual and for each death in an individual’s life. Perhaps a good rule of thumb is only to do things when they feel right ~ not when you or someone else thinks the time should be right. 

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.

(William Shakespeare ~ Hamlet Act 1)

 

 

 

 

 

Great Poetry Lives On ~ Gatherings from Ireland # 127

April 23rd is a day which marks the deaths of four outstanding poets:

William Shakespeare ~ 1616

Henry Vaughan ~ 1695

William Wordsworth ~ 1850

Rupert Brooke ~ 1915

The works of all these men have been highly significant in my life from childhood onwards and I can’t but think today of my mother drawing on Shakespeare to advise with these oft quoted words:

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
(From Hamlet Act 1, Scene 3)

On starry nights, I am propelled back to learning poetry in school and these lines from Henry Vaughan come flowing back as if I was still sitting in the classroom overlooking the Boyne River in Drogheda, Co. Louth:

 If thou canst get but thither,

There grows the flow’r of peace,

The rose that cannot wither,

 Thy fortress, and thy ease.

(from Peace by Henry Vaughan)

William Wordsworth, more than any of the poets, has permeated my entire life and his poem The Daffodils stands out from my rendition of in an elocution competition when I was eight or nine, to visiting Dove Cottage in the Lake District with my sister in my teens, to reading the poem to my late father in his last months.  I doubt these precious lines will ever leave me:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. 

(from The Daffodils by William Wordsworth)

Rupert Brooke brings me back to Mother’s love of poetry and her wonderful way of using extracts from poems to soothe. These particular lines remind me of nights of childhood illness when Mother would lie down beside me and lull me to sleep with her gentle, calming voice:

And through the dreadful hours
The trees and waters and the hills have kept
The sacred vigil while you slept,
And lay a way of dew and flowers
Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread.

(from The Charm by Rupert Brooke).