Not goodbye

I’m supposed to be focusing on here and now, respecting dear Benjamin, my father-in-law at his funeral. Yet, I can’t help but be remembering all the moments that proved his death wasn’t just a dream up until now. Ben died three nearly four weeks ago, he’d been in bad shape for a few months, but we still thought we had more time. Then, at three in the morning, my husband got the call.

His mum, Jenny video called to reveal the news that Ben, age sixty-seven died. I’ll never forget the look of pure despair on Jenny’s face. Her face crumpling up as she struggled to choke out her words. She and Ben were together for forty years, with three sons and four grandchildren, all of those grandchildren are sadly too young to remember him.

It felt like a nightmare, my husband, Mark seemed frozen, his eyes wide and his hand covering his mouth as we watched his mum break and be wrapped up in his younger brother’s arms for consoling.

My attention came to the present as I watched the three sons and Ben’s brother carry the coffin in as I remembered this, remembering how I didn’t believe it actually happened until I woke up again and Mark wasn’t home, he was with his mum and brother’s seeing his dad in the morgue.

I’ve rarely seen Mark break down, but he did when he got home. Sobbing into my shoulder. Him and his brothers are all under thirty-five, all the grandkids are younger than six, this shouldn’t be happening. Ben will never see them become the men they’re meant to be, or the kids grow up. The fact the kids won't remember him is something that's breaking everyone more.

Mark came and sat by me, seemingly numb as he took my hand and looked ahead. Spacing out is something he does a lot when processing emotions. It’s rare he cries, if anyone made him cry recently other than Jenny it was our gorgeous, innocent daughter. When Mark came home, in the state he was in, Oonagh said so sweetly, “don’t worry, daddy, grandad will be home soon.”

Her words triggered the tears I had been trying to hold back. I’m the emotional one. I needed to be the strong one for once, which is why at that moment, I took it upon myself to try and explain to our five-year-old, that she will never see grandad Ben anymore and that he’s in a happy place. It was horrendous to go through that with her. Our house was full of sadness, one that it never has before. We all love Ben and we needed to accept he was gone.

I’m happy Mark and I chose not to bring Oonagh and our three-year-old son, Justin with us to the funeral today. They’re just to young to have to experience an event like this. Yes, their four-year-old cousin is here, but he lived with them along side his parents. Luke woke up when Ben had his heart attack and had to go into hospital eight days prior to his passing. Luke’s taken it a lot worse than Oonagh and Justin because of this, he needs this fair well considering the effect its had on him. Louise is his 4-month-old sister, she doesn’t understand, nor does Justin. Oonagh and Luke are the two who just barely understand and are suffering because of it.

I squeezed Mark’s hand as we watched the slideshow of photos play in front of us as a painful but beautiful song played. It was just two weeks ago Mark and I spent a night at his parents with Jenny, Mark's brothers and his sister-in-law to go through photos for the funeral. I’ve hated every moment of it. It’s never felt real which is the only reason I’ve managed to stay relatively strong for Mark, Jenny and Oonagh. Yet, every day I look at the memorial plaque I got for Ben and I try and have it sink in.

Even now, I, like Mark and his family are half expecting for this to just be a cruel joke and Ben to pop out of the coffin. Cruel or not, we wouldn’t care as long as he was alive and well. It’s not going to happen though. Mark and Jenny had to endure witnessing Ben in his coffin, where they put in handprints with a note from each grandchild in, along with a knitted heart for inside his pocket. Jenny made two, the other is safely away for when she dies, so she can have that buried with her. It’s beautiful, romantic but so heart clenching to think about.

This funeral, it’s killing me. I love Mark and his family so much and to see them all so broken is tearing me apart. Yes, I love Ben, he and I connected on topics no one else could. I was close with him, like the rest of Mark’s family, but Jenny had forty years with him, and Ben raised Mark and his brothers, they watched him struggle with health conditions, they grew up idolising him. They took so many lessons from him growing up. It’s why I forced Mark to watch our wedding video recently, so he could see that he did thank his dad for everything he did for him.

“Are you going to be, okay?” I asked Mark as the time for eulogies came up. Mark and his younger brother wrote one. The eldest son is aloof and quiet. It’s hard to read the man but you can see how heartbroken he is, even if he can’t express it through words. Mark glanced over to me and squeezed my hand tight. With how he’s been handling it, I know he’s grateful I drafted him a eulogy to work off. He’s been struggling to find the right words to say, no words will ever be strong enough to show just how much he loves his dad and how much Ben is going to be missed, but it needs to be tried.

“I’m going to have to be. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Mark and I shared a brief kiss before he moved to the front with the eulogy in hand. I could see the fear and heartache as he looked out to the crowd. This isn’t easy for anyone, but I am so proud and impressed that Mark’s strong enough to do this.

“There is one main word that comes to mind when I think of my dad, and that is strength. Even before I was born, he had health issues, to the point they told him and my mum that he couldn’t have any more children. Well, he proved them wrong with two other sons later.

My brothers and I are truly the luckiest men to have such a role model to look up to. Our dad taught us and showed us daily that no matter what life may throw at you, you need to make the most of it and not let it hold you back.

He taught us how to treat a woman as him and my mum were what I picture a happy, loving marriage should be, along with a happy family. It’s because of them that I never go a day without telling my wife and children that I love them.

My dad was an incredible man we could all learn a thing or two from, even if it’s as simple as supporting your favourite football team when they’re not playing well, because that shows loyalty, dedication and faith, all of which are traits my dad had.

It's brilliant to see so many here to respect my dad and support his loved ones. I’m not going to say and to say goodbye to him. I’m going to say to say see you later instead. Goodbye is not forever. Goodbye is not the end. We’ll all just miss him until we see him again.

I love you dad; hope you’re enjoying a gin with those you had to say see you later a few years ago.

Thank you.”

I’m sure that there wasn’t a dry eye in the house anyway, but it only got worse. Jenny’s sobs filled the room as the eldest son, Carl wrapped his arms around her, meanwhile I wrapped my arms tight around Mark when he returned to me and Amy wrapped hers around her husband and the youngest brother, Greg before he went to do his eulogy before bringing Luke to her lap.

“I’m so proud of you. That was perfect.” I managed to say, trying to hold back my tears and listen to Greg’s eulogy. It seemed to go so fast, the truth continued to sink in and finally it came to the family taking a flower and resting it on Ben’s coffin. I followed Mark’s lead. Ben may not have been family by blood, but he still was my family. I was last to go and resting my flower on the grave I said all that I could think of at that moment in time. “Don’t worry Ben, Jenny and the boys are in good hands. We’ll miss you.”

Dedicated to my father-in-law who past away in May.