Mum’s funeral

I was thrown with full force, along with my children, into organising mum’s funeral. My brother, sister and I remained in shock throughout this period. Almost in zombie mode (which I suspect all people are in after the death of someone close), I rang whoever I could to attend the funeral. It was all done rather quickly because my brother and sister needed to fly back home. From the moment mum died I took over. I could not have done any of it without my incredible son and daughter. They were magnificent. After all it was their grandmother and they were heartbroken. They went off to get the death certificates and organised the printing of the photograph for the funeral.

It was peculiar in many ways because we knew mum wanted a traditional Sikh funeral, however I am an atheist and did not know what needed to be done. I suspect everyone regardless of faith doesn’t know how it all works until you have to do it. My cousin’s husband who loved mum dearly went with me to the Gurdwara. We went to the office. I had been there before with mum when she had organised events previously. The lady in charge knew me and mum. She remembered mum’s business and how she was one of the first businesswomen in Southall. Her memory of mum and dad was vivid. She was so very kind and helpful. I told her we wanted the funeral to be traditional but not a long sermon. The family wanted to speak at the crematorium. I also wanted someone (the priest) to be kind, guiding, and non judgemental as none of us in the immediate family are religious. The family being my siblings and the grandchildren. A small family. This is unusual for an Indian family. Actually, we have a huge family but it is in India and other parts of the world. The family for mum and dad were their friends. As is the same for me.

At Sikh funerals women are expected to cover their head with a white dupatta (scarf), however I remember how much dad hated that, and after dad died mum as a widow never wore a white dupatta. I thought it would be nice if we could honour that. I found as many brightly coloured dupattas as possible to give out on the day of the funeral. 

Before all of this though we bathe our loved one. This is a difficult task. If it is a woman as in mums case it is the women who bathe her. My sister and my cousin and a close friend of mum along with the lady who helped look after her the last two years of her life all went to the funeral parlour. I chose the clothes the night before. I made sure that mum’s sari was silk and turquoise, both her favourite things. I found some jewellery she loved, her watch and a matching shawl. Mum always wore a matching shawl. I didn’t really want Nargis, her granddaughter, to come as I didn’t want her to remember her this way. This was a tough decision. Nargis did give me some makeup and nail varnish in a makeup case to send with her. Mum always had her lipstick on. As I do! Whilst we bathed mum with the help of an assistant there were shabads (Sikh prayers) playing in the background. Although I am not religious, the prayers were helpful. We washed mum’s hair. I remember thinking how cold she was. She really used to feel the cold. Mum loved sitting in the sun.

The day of the funeral came quickly. Just as it had been arranged the coffin arrived at home. Mourners came to the house to pay their respects. The chanting of WaheGuru (wondrous enlightener) gave me solace. At such a time I think we need ritual to get through it. The Granthi which is not a priest but a custodian of the Adi Granth (sacred scriptures of the Sikhs) came to the house to say prayers. Sukhmani Sahib, the Psalm of Peace, composed by the fifth Guru Arjan Deve is sung. A simple continuous WaheGuru is to console the family.

Mum’s coffin was carried out of the house to the hearse. This was the last time she would be in her home. We then went in a procession to the Gurdwara. At the Gurdwara there were more prayers. Mourners had another chance to pay their respects. The Sikh funeral is known as Antam Sanskaar, meaning ‘the last rite of passage’. The focus of the funeral ceremony is not loss and grief, but celebration that the soul has an opportunity to rejoin WaheGuru. I know how important this was to mum.

We then went to the crematorium. It felt like a long way, Somehow you just get through it. Even though it had been a rushed affair and being held on the other side of London there were many people there. I remember reading the eulogy in Punjabi and not being able to get through it without crying. My brother and sister were at my side but didn’t speak. Neel, her grandson, then spoke about his Grandma. Nargis, his sister, stood by his side. He spoke beautifully. The Granthi then prayed and mum’s coffin went behind the curtain. My brother, sister and I then said our final goodbyes. Outside I remember people coming to me to pay their respects.

We then went back to the Gurdwara. Here there were more prayers and Langar was served. Langar is a communal meal served at the Gurdwara. There is a communal kitchen where those who give sewar and prepare and serve the food. Sewar means ‘selfless service’. It involves acting selflessly and helping others in a variety of ways including cooking in the communal kitchen and serving food to the congregation.

Those who were not able to come home or to the crematorium came to the Gurdwara. Most of this to me is a blur. Suddenly the exhaustion caught up with me……….

When it was all over, close friends and family came home. We looked at photographs and talked about joyous memories. This was truly about celebrating mum’s extraordinary life. That night I was so tired and relieved that it had all gone well. I was so pleased that I had such a loving family. That night I slept well.