Down Among the Dead Men_ A Year in the Life of a Mortuary Technician - Michelle Williams [91]
It was a cold March evening, and we had an appointment at Phelps & Stayton for four o’clock. It was only up the road from the hospital so I met Mum there. With her she had a packet of playing cards, twenty cigarettes (‘just in case he fancies one,’ although he had given up when Nan got ill after twenty-five years of smoking) and a lighter. These were going in the coffin with Gramp. ‘I’m not putting any photos in with Gramp, Michelle; he won’t be forgetting us,’ Mum said to me before we went in.
When we entered, Tony treated me as bereaved family, and not like his colleague from the hospital that was with her mum. He took us into the chapel of rest and said he would leave us and to take as long as we wanted. I was amazed by the chapel. Soft lighting, soft music being pumped in the background, that scent of lilies again, but this time serving a purpose by taking away the smell of embalming fluid, as well as heavy, clean carpets and plush office-type chairs.
In the middle of the room was Gramp, laid out in his coffin. The lining of the coffin was pure white satin. When we had been to Phelps & Stayton to meet with Tony to arrange the funeral, we had a choice of three colours for the lining, baby blue, baby pink or white, all of them being in a strange-looking so-called ‘satin’ material. I had asked Tony if there were any other options available, like possibly cotton padded lining, but no.
So there was Gramp, looking very smart in his favourite suit, which was now too big for him. I knew that Tony would have pinned it at the back to make it a better fit, and was sure that Mum must have figured this out too, but it was left unspoken, although Mum did check to see if he had his underwear on. I understood this fully, and her reasons why.
Before Gramp went into the hospice, Mum and Dad had taken on his care. He had a home help a couple of times a week, but my parents decided this was nowhere near enough. So, Mum would go to see Gramp before her shift started at nine in the morning. She would take him the daily national paper, any groceries he needed, daily stuff like bread and milk, make him a cup of tea, help him with any personal necessities, ensure his bed was clean – which had been moved into his living room for the heat and the TV – then she would go off to work only to return at two thirty to do it all again, but this time bringing the local paper. Dad would also go up every evening at six and sort out his mail, make more tea, compose a shopping list for the ‘big’ weekly shop day by day, and ensure Gramp was settled for the evening with good access to the telephone if he needed it. Dad did curse himself for this action one evening though, when Gramp had rung the police to ask them for a cup of tea, as he did not want to disturb Dad.
So, as in life, Mum needed everything to be right for Gramp, because this made her settled.
Thank God, he was wearing the underwear that Mum had so meticulously folded and placed into Gramp’s overnight bag for Tony. I had thought at one point that Mum was going to request that she dress Gramp, but no. I was pleased that I had gone to see him. He looked so peaceful. No heavy make-up to hide the imperfections that death brings, just carefully adjusted lighting to present him in the best way. Dressed to perfection, thanks to Tony, and his suit had definitely not been cut up the back and placed over him and tucked under (another trick that some undertakers pull), which I had checked while Mum was faffing with her handbag; as I knew he would, Tony had taken time to dress Gramp properly. Mum