Great Christian Diaries

2003-10-06 - 11.45pm  previous entry  next entry

Today was Cameron’s funeral. I don’t much feel like writing about it all now, but like when I’d been to see his body, I really feel I ought to write about it on the day so that I can remember as much as possible. I’ve already forgotten so much from Friday, so I know it is worth it to get on and write it, whether I feel like it or not.

It was good, a good funeral. Very hard to bear, but still a good send-off for Cameron. There were loads of people. I was so nervous getting ready and driving to the church. I wore black trousers and black velvet jacket, and a white shirt, and it felt weird being all dressed up and smart, and so much black. I’m a colourful girl normally.

When I got to the road with the church in it (15 minutes before the funeral), I couldn’t get down it because the hearse was parked in the middle of the road, along with three long black limos for Cam’s family. So I turned into a nearby residential street and headed away from the church, looking for a place to park. Streaming down all the pavements towards me as I drove were people dressed in black, all going to say goodbye to Cameron. I parked up and walked back towards the church, people in front of me and people behind me, all looking numb and all wearing black. There were children in their school uniforms – Cameron’s whole class was there, along with some teachers. A few of the children came with their parents and I think they were Cam’s special friends. One of the little girls in particular was quite distraught throughout the service and afterwards too. I think that must have been Janelle, his best friend. Poor little love.

Outside the church everybody was crowding, looking at Cameron’s coffin inside the hearse, and just standing there waiting to go into the church. There were flowers in the hearse with Cameron and flowers all over the top of the car too. The ones on the top at the front spelled “CAM” and they were propped up like a display sign. It was right at that moment that I realised I had not even thought of flowers. Of course you bring or send flowers to a funeral, but it hadn’t occurred to me at all. I have never been to a funeral by myself. I’ve been to a few others but they were family or family friends, and my parents had arranged flowers to be there. Even at Grandmummy’s funeral earlier this year, Mummy had sent three bouquets ahead of us, one from her and Daddy, one from me and Neil, and one from my brother and his fiancée. So I never had to do that part, it never occurred to me to sort it out. I felt bad when I saw all the flowers and realised there were none from me. If I had thought of it, I would definitely have wanted to send flowers. Definitely. But I didn’t.

I stood there in the huge crowd outside the church for 15 minutes, and then we started to go into the church. As I got nearer I noticed Cam’s family were near the entrance, and some people were leaving the line to go over and say a few words or hug them. I felt I would have liked to, and that I should have, but I suddenly couldn’t bear to talk to them at that moment. My throat and tongue felt frozen and I just wanted to get inside and sit down. Cam’s mum looked very pale, but she wasn’t crying, she just looked like she always did – composed and strong, and vulnerable all at the same time. My heart really went out to her. Cam’s dad (he’s remarried with children and step-children) was very distraught and so were all of his family, even the step-kids. Ms “Lady-he-ran-off-with-even-though-she-was-originally-a-friend-of-Cam’s-mum” was making a great scene of tears and fuss, and needing lots of attention and shoulders and pats on the back, which made me feel angry since who was Cameron to her? And despite her display, there was Cam’s mum and step-dad, who he lived with and loved and were his real family, standing tall and somehow still managing to give to other people, hugging guests and asking how they were doing. Urgh.

Anyway, I went into the church. It was big inside. A lady gave me an Order of Service, and I didn’t look at her as I took it until she stopped me and said hello. Then I recognised her face, but it took a moment to realise she was one of the workers at the play room on the children’s ward at the hospital. I had started my voluntary work there (this is 9 or 10 years ago) before they placed me one-to-one with Cameron. So it’s been a while. But she recognised me and remembered my name, and it was lovely to see her. Actually now I think about it, she was the lady I reported to on my first day working there. Wow, that’s really going back.

Anyway, I took a pew in the middle of the church and sat on the aisle so I could see. I was desperate to see which hymns were Cameron’s favourites, ever since his mum told me he had a few from school that he loved. I looked in the Order of Service when I sat down, and can you believe?! – the boy loved the same hymns that I loved as a child!! The very same ones. One in particular was my favourite at primary school. His hymns were, “Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning (Sing Hosanna)”, “You shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace (The trees of the fields shall clap their hands)”, which I didn’t know from school but enjoyed at church, and my favourite when I was younger than Cam, “If I were a butterfly (I just thank you Father for making me, me!)” Just seeing those hymns in the Order of Service made me choke up, I don’t know why really. I just loved that he and I liked the same things. Who’d have thought?! I had other favourites too, but those were two of my very best.

The service started. The family walked in and the coffin was brought to the front. The vicar was brilliant – he did a gentle lecture at the beginning about crying and how the British are bad at it!! But how this was a safe place to cry, and that crying meant we loved Cameron. He said we shouldn’t be ashamed to cry or afraid of it. He was absolutely fab. He also did a lot of pointing out that all the things we loved about Cameron, all the great qualities in him, were all gifts from God. He explained how we needed to give Cam back to God and say thank you for him, and say goodbye to him. It was wonderful because I think the school children were greatly helped by hearing all of that. And it was good and simple for us grown-ups to take in too.

I hate crying with other people around me, it feels just awful to let go in public like that – I know that’s crazy and I need to get over it, but it’s just how I feel. I don’t like myself crying, and I don’t like people to see that part of me. Hmmm. Anyway, despite all that I was crying by the opening prayer. Quite a few people were, and it just got too hard to shove under any longer. I had actually thought I was done crying after seeing his body, but it all came back to the surface today, which I didn’t totally expect. The vicar’s words did help me to let it out actually, so I am grateful that he said what he did. It helped that I wasn’t sitting with anybody that I knew, and I hid behind my hair a lot. Long hair is good for that you know.

I couldn’t sing the first hymn for crying at first, but I decided I wanted to sing Cam’s and my favourite hymns loud and clear just for him, and for me too I suppose. So I swallowed a lot and sang. It was hard to keep singing but I am glad to have sung those lovely songs again, in Cameron’s honour. We had prayers and things read out from a prayer book in between songs, which I cried through, and then more songs. I enjoyed singing “If I were a butterfly” It was an absolute joy to sing that again! Not many people around me seemed to know that song, but oh well, I sang my heart out anyway. It’s all about thanking God for making me who I am today. The vicar said that the fact that it was one of Cameron’s favourites spoke about how happy he was with himself. Even though he had endured a lot physically and had lots of restrictions healthwise, he still loved to sing a song to God about being thankful that he’s Cameron. I am so happy that he was a happy child.

His step-dad did the eulogy. He got up the front and said some things about Cameron. He said everything that I already knew about Cameron – I’m sure everyone there already knew those things about Cam, but it was both good and heart-wrenching to be reminded. He was kind and good-natured, emotional and sensitive. He loved others, and he loved to show his love for people. He loved to play about and have fun. He loved to laugh and he loved to make other people laugh. He never complained or moped about ever during his long life of medical problems, even though many of them were painful or restricting or hard for him to deal with. He hated unkindness or bullying of any sort, although he never had a bad word to say about anyone. His step-dad (who incidentally had legally adopted Cameron, and Cam called him dad since before he and Cam’s mum got married) recalled a time when the family had been to a wedding, and the guests were all at a hotel. The hotel had a swimming pool, and all the kids went to have a swim. While they were getting changed, Cameron, who didn’t know any of them, made jokes and tried to make the other children laugh. By the time they were changed, they were all cracking up laughing, mainly because Cameron was laughing so hard trying to tell them these funny jokes that he was making them laugh at him! This is exactly what I was saying about Cam and laughter. How the last time I spoke to him on the phone he was trying to describe Theme Hospital to me and he was making me laugh till I cried because he was unable to say the words for laughing so hard. I knew he was crying with laughter too, because of how his voice sounded – he could hardly breathe for laughing, and I never got to hear much about Theme Hospital in the end! I have that game so that part doesn’t matter, he had just wanted to tell me how funny he was finding it. What a lovely boy.

It seems terrible that such a lovely lovely child was taken whilst so many little brats remain. I know that’s a heartless thing to say, and one that Cameron would never have liked me to say, but I just feel so bitter all of a sudden that some kids never do anything but bully others and complain and push other people down for their own gain. They turn into adults who do the same. Cameron was one in a million – I have met a lot of children, but never one with a personality anything LIKE Cameron’s. It just doesn’t seem fair. And yet it is, because he was a gift in the first place. I shouldn’t be selfish. He belongs to God.

Well then there were more prayers and things. We sang the 23rd Psalm which I cried through. We prayed out of the prayer book which I cried through. A lovely poem was read by the lady who I met at the chapel on Friday, Cam’s school helper, which I cried through. Then the bearers came back and picked Cam up in his coffin. They bowed to him before that, and they did the same after they put him down at the beginning. I found that gesture of respect so touching. They carried him away up the aisle to the hearse, and that’s when Cameron’s mum broke down. The organ was playing softly like it does when a service ends, and everybody was stood up in their seats, but nobody was leaving until the family followed the coffin up the aisle. But they didn’t leave because his lovely mum was inconsolable. She was hunched forward with her husband on one side and her mum on the other, hardly able to stand for the weight of her emotion, and her sobs echoed round the old church. My heart absolutely broke for her, it was the most painful part of this whole time since Cameron died, for me. I felt like my chest would split in two with how much it physically hurt, like the breastbone was being cracked with the pressure. I clutched the Order of Service to me and looked around, and everyone, absolutely EVERYONE was sobbing and crying exactly the same as me, all of them looking at Cam’s mum and seeming heartbroken for her. I never saw her break before. God knows she’s had plenty of causes to do so for the last 11 years, but she never did. She always soldiered on, giving and giving and giving to other people and to Cameron. She’s an amazing mother, an amazing person. I am glad that she was able to let her feelings out even just for a bit, but gosh it hurt to watch. I can’t imagine her pain.

But after a few minutes she took a load of deep breaths and the family walked back up the aisle past us, and made a receiving line at the back of the church. By the time I got to her, she was pale and tearstained, but utterly calm and composed, and hugging people and thanking them for coming. Amazing woman. I am quite in awe of her today. I don’t know how she does it. I, of course – as she was so steady! – was a complete mess by the time I was near enough to hug her. Cam’s dad (step-dad) was handing out beautifully framed photos of Cameron at the door – of his last school photograph. It’s a lovely one, and I will keep it forever of course. I am thinking of putting it up somewhere too, but I’m not sure where yet, or if I can deal with seeing it right now. I didn’t look at it when he gave it to me, but I stopped outside the door to the church and had a look. He looks so real and alive and bright and cheerful in the photo, his eyes are bursting with life and humour. It made it seem so impossible that he was a few feet away from me in the coffin that was being loaded back into the hearse. Absolutely impossible. I cried a lot and the lady from the play room came over and gave me a hug. She said I had known him for a long time so it must be hard for me. I said I had and it was. She was so nice, and it was lovely of her to come over and hug me. She said she had photos of me and Cam on a water ride at Thorpe Park at the hospital. Maybe I will go and see them sometime. I don’t feel much like visiting the children’s ward at the moment because I spent half my life there for a few years with Cameron, and that’s the last time I was there. So it will remind me of him too much and I can’t bear that right now. But maybe some day.

Another lady from the play room came over after that and we talked for a while, and a third lady said hello too. It’s so weird, I barely remember them but they all remember me so well. Maybe it’s because whenever they saw Cameron he was there with me, because I was always with him when he was at the hospital. I tried to never let him be at the hospital without me being there too, because I wanted to create a sense of security and continuity for him by doing that.

Well once the family came out of the church and got in the limos, I headed back to my car, and followed the funeral procession to the cemetery. I lost them on the way though, because the procession was so long that there was no traffic light that was green long enough to let us all through in one go before it turned red again. So I lost them and took a million back streets to try and make up time. I ended up getting there way before them somehow! But while we waited at the graveside, I chatted to four nurses who recognised me (again by name!) and who wanted to know what I was up to these days. The grave was dug out and had the green carpety stuff all around it. It was in a row of seven or eight children’s graves, and Cameron’s plot was right on the end of the row. I went to a funeral with my parents in 2000 just a few rows away from where Cameron’s grave is, when our long-standing and much-loved next door neighbour died. We called her “Nanny” like her grandchildren did, just because that’s all we ever knew her as. That was a very different funeral. Half of Barbados (which is where she was from) turned up (!!) and her six sons dug her grave themselves in front of all the many guests, while various friends and family clung together in huddles, swaying and singing gospel songs in beautiful harmonies. It was a long graveside ceremony, and there was laughter and humour as well as sadness.

When Cameron and his family turned up, everyone just waited in silence while the funeral people brought all the flowers out and lined them up along the row, in front of the other children’s graves, for people to look at afterwards. Then they lifted the coffin out of the car, and placed it on those planky things that lie across the grave. They bowed again to Cam, and then four of them took hold of big straps that supported the weight of the coffin underneath it, and the vicar committed Cameron to God and his body to the ground, and then the wood planks were removed and the four men slowly lowered the coffin into the grave. We were all gathered close to the grave and I was up the front so I saw it all clearly. Cam’s family were distraught. It was so sad to watch. They threw white roses in on top of the coffin in turn. When Cam’s real dad threw his in, he went to his knees and sobbed, the poor man. Cam’s grandmother had to be taken away from the grave, she was so distressed and couldn’t be comforted. Then the funeral people drove the hearse away, and everyone looked in at the coffin or else walked along the row of flowers looking at them and the messages on them. I looked too. I did not cry during the committal at the graveside, I just felt too squeezy and numb, and so bad for his family. But looking at the flowers, I felt so sad that there were no flowers there from me, nothing to say “I love you” like the other messages sending love and respect to Cam and support and care to his family. Nothing. I wished I had brought some flowers, something, anything, just to give him on the day. And a message that his family could take home and cherish like they did with all the others there today. They gathered the little cards up at the end when everyone had seen them. I was watching them do this when Cam’s (real) dad appeared next to me saying my name. I haven’t seen him since he left Cam and his mum 8 years ago and I didn’t know if he’d remember me, but there he was, eyes all red and swollen, saying my name. He gave me a big hug and thanked me for being there. I don’t know why he did that when there were all those other people and his family and being so upset and all. But it really meant a lot to me so I’m thankful that he did. Then he disappeared as quickly he had appeared, and I was left watching the flowers and the last of the guests hugging the family goodbye, with Cam in his coffin six feet below me to my left. Cam’s three-year-old brother was blowing kisses into the grave, and not really understanding what was going on, rushing around and playing with stones and wanting people to swing him and things. Everything felt too much and I cried, and Cam’s mum appeared and gave me a hug which was outstandingly lovely of her, and this other guy who I do NOT remember came over and said he hadn’t seen me for years and was I okay? And had I still been seeing Cameron regularly, because he hadn’t seen Cam in three years and he felt bad about that. I still don’t know who he is! But we had a nice long chat and I felt less tearful after a while.

I walked over to Nanny’s grave before we left, just to say hello and tell her about Cameron being there now. She saw him once or twice when he was over, and of course she was at our wedding when Cam was our page boy. I don’t know what it is about graves that make you want to talk to the person buried underneath, even though you KNOW they can’t hear you and you don’t believe in that anyway. It’s weird. I even found myself saying please look after Cameron for me, which is crazy since I do not believe in people who have died before looking after people who have recently died. I believe God does ALL the looking after. That’s just the point in heaven – people are freed from responsibility for other people I reckon. They do not need to when they are in the presence of God. Nobody needs looking after there, and God is enough for all of them. But still I find myself hoping he’s okay and being looked after. Silly huh. Especially when I know he’s fine and dandy, and having THE time of his life.

Anyway, after chatting with Cam’s grandmother and some other people for a while, the gathering broke up and the family got back in their limos, and I headed back to my car. I stopped at the graveside and looked down at his coffin, and said goodbye and I love you one last time. I found it incredibly reassuring throughout the whole afternoon – but especially looking down into the grave – that I had been to see his body at the chapel. Because I knew what he looked like in his coffin, even though the lid was on today and nobody could see him. I knew. Looking down in that pit at the wooden box with flowers strewn all over it, and clay walls rising up to the grass on either side, I felt like I could see with X-ray vision, because I could visualise him in it, almost as though I could see the coffin without it’s lid on. I knew what he was wearing. I knew he had his glasses on. I knew where his head came to in the coffin, and his feet. I knew how his hands were arranged on his stomach, and how his eyelashes lay against his cheeks, and how his lips parted so you could see his adult front teeth which always looked so strange to me now that Cameron wasn’t a little boy anymore. He would have still looked exactly the same as on Friday, only today he was in a box deep in the ground. The weirdest thought is that right at this moment he still looks that way, only it’s dark outside and he is covered with six feet of newly turned earth, and it’s windy and cold above the ground, still and lonely, with only the sound of the windmills whirring in the children’s graves near to his own. I shouldn’t think about such things because it’s pointless and it only makes me upset. Anyway, he isn’t even there, it’s just a storage place for his body, and the Cameron I know and love is alive alive alive with Jesus in heaven right at this moment, where it is never cold or dark or lonely, not now and nor will it ever be. It’s just so weird and difficult for my puny earthly brain to comprehend the difference sometimes, when I have something physical to tie him down with.

Anyway I went back to Cameron’s house. Leaving the cemetery was hard and upsetting for some reason. I hated to leave him there in that open grave with the straps and the carpet still hanging out onto the grass around his grave. I wanted to stay and see the job finished. But everyone was leaving so I left too. I did see a big yellow digger heading over to his grave as I pulled away in my car, and looked back in time to see it stop in front of him, so I guess they were going to waste no time filling the earth in. I feel like we all left him alone. That’s crazy but it’s how I feel and it’s probably why I felt so heartbroken leaving the cemetery.

The gathering at the house was good. I didn’t really know anybody, except the family and they were busy with everyone talking to them all the time, so I sat and watched Michael playing a lot. That was strangely comforting and distracting, even though he was noisy and mischievous! Little monkey. He is so much like Cameron was at his age. Only not as precious, because to me nobody else could be. I was so cold after the funeral because the weather turned cold with strong winds when we came out of the church, so we all got pretty chilled. So I had a cup of tea which I never drink normally. There was food but I didn’t feel like any. Cam’s mum was being incredible again, comforting Michael when some horrible bratty kid hit him in the face (grrr), making sure people had tea or coffee, talking to millions of people, and – oh yes – taking care of her 36-hour-old baby boy!! Yikes! Nathan (the new baby) is absolutely gorgeously beautiful!!! He is so tiny, only 5lb 8oz – probably less now – and all his tiny features are so perfect and beautiful. He is so quiet and good (at the moment!). I held him for nearly an hour at the end and he slept the whole time. My arms ache now! I need to seriously build my arm muscles up for when I have a baby of my own! I couldn’t take my eyes off his face for the whole time. A baby…. He just seemed incredible to me, a complete miracle. So perfect and incomprehensible. I told Cameron’s mum and dad about how we’re trying for a baby, and they actually said encouraging and reassuring things to me!!! These people are amazing! They are always giving to other people and being selfless. I love this family so much.

At the end when I said I was going home, Cam’s parents thanked me for being there. Cam’s dad (step-dad) said that Cameron hadn’t suffered, that he was only really ill for the last week of his life, and during that time he was on morphine all the time so he didn’t suffer any pain. I’m so glad of that. And that it wasn’t very long and drawn out. Cam’s dad also said to me, “He thought the world of you”, which as you can imagine made my whole year / decade / life. I replied, “I thought the world of him too.”

It was hard to be at Cameron's house without Cameron. But a deep breath and a step through the front door got me past the worst of that, and then I was distracted when I needed to be by Michael or a guest or the baby. I looked at photos of Cam on the mantlepiece, family photos taken when Michael was born, or playing with Michael a year ago, and another one from their holiday at EuroDisney this year. When I was alone in that room with Nathan in my arms, I took him over to the mantlepiece and told Cam, here he is, and I'm giving him a cuddle for you. Cam was so excited to meet Nathan, and he never got to. And I also sang Nathan "If I were a butterfly" just quietly, while everyone else was in the other room getting food. I just wanted to. It seemed fitting.

I have been feeling pretty drained and tired since getting home, and I've been crying some too. I can't believe it's all over, and there's nothing left to do for Cameron except carry on with life and remember him. It seems so empty and so sad, and so little to be doing for him. I drove back to the cemetery on the way home. My car just drove there, whether it was right or wrong to do so. But it was closed anyway, and I tried to see his grave in the distance through the fences and hedges but it was no use, and I came home again. I noticed they are open from 9-5 until November when the hours get shorter because of the light.

I decided I would write Cameron a letter as my tribute to him, since I didn't do it with flowers and a card. I know I told him all this on Friday, but I think it would be good to write it all down, how much he has meant to me and how he changed my life, and how wonderful he is and how much I love him, plus lots of my favourite memories and favourite things about him. I will write it and take it to the cemetery this week with maybe a single rose, and leave it on the grave. That way I have left my tribute, and his family will surely pick it up and it will hopefully bless them too to know how much he has blessed my life. Hopefully that will be even better than a card. I hope so. I need to send the family a card too, which I will do, but I really want to write that letter and go back to his grave as soon as I can. Maybe tomorrow, but I don't know. I feel like my heart might fall out if I hurt anymore. That sounds stupid, but I feel like there's a hole and if I squeeze any more with emotion it will squeeze my core right out and I'll never fit it back in again.

I had a dream last night that I was mauled by a huge ferocious lion. It's fur and it's paws were so silky soft, but it's bite was terribly painful. I was screaming and terrified, but when it left me and went away, I realised that it had only bitten the end of my little finger. Which hurt like anything, but that was all it was. I know that has some link to Cameron and how I am feeling, but my brain can't figure it out tonight, I feel all done in. I am going to bed now, and then maybe I'll think about the rest of my life tomorrow. Or maybe not. I don't know what on earth to do with anything right now.

One other amazing thing happened today. Cameron’s grave will be marked by a wooden cross with a little plaque saying his name, date of death and age, like the one I read out to him from the lid of his coffin:

Cameron Anthony (surname)
Died September 24th 2003
Aged 11 years

The little cross was already there lying on the grass beside the long row of flowers, ready to mark his grave when they filled it in. As I walked along the row of flowers, lined up in front of the other children’s graves, I started to read the other gravestones. And I saw something that nearly made my eyes fall out. Three graves along from Cameron’s there was a little grave marked with the same wooden cross, just a bit more weathered and slightly smaller. It said:

Cameron Anthony Hayes
Died September 20th 2000

How amazing is that?! For another child buried three graves from Cam to have his full name (different surname though), Cameron Anthony. I’ve never even heard of that combination of names before, and I don’t know any other Camerons anyway. And he died almost exactly three years before Cam did. The very same week in the very same month. How amazing. I pointed it out to his mum, and soon everyone was exclaiming about it. His mum looked at it in amazement for a moment, and then she said, “You know what? I think Cameron would have found that very funny.”

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