A Mass Bereavement

It's been almost three months since the disappearance of the Malaysian Aircraft flight MH370, there has been speculation as to whether it is a tragic, unexplained accident, an act of terrorism, or more recently a political protest.

       My thoughts are with the families in complete despair and turmoil. They will be feeling helpless for having to wait for news. Powerless because they cannot force anyones hand to deliver answers. They have many questions but feel frustrated by the answers they are given. The families have been protesting to make it clear they will not go away quietly and continue to wait for fragmented news.
  

©Funeography

Flight distance 2870.5 Miles away, there are more families mourning the South Korean ferry disaster.
There has been some recoveries for funerals to take place.
With this latest tragedy involving so many children, it will bring fear into parents all over the world. We are approaching the time of year when school trips are being organised and we are expected to give our blessing and wave our children off; to what should be an adventure, a learning opportunity, and even to help our children on the important road to independance.

Then why is it that organisers, schools, government officials begin to fall increasingly silent when we want answers. When all those adults and children aboard the plane and the ferry screamed so loudly for their lives?

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2611159/Haunting-images-memorial-victims-South-Korea-ferry-disaster-photographs-left-loved-ones-identified.html#v-3499259469001

I dedicate this blog to my grandmother Ma Rose John (Nee Bonaparte). She waved some of her children off as they left for England many years ago.

See you at the next posting.

A Kind Act

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography

Last week I was at the funeral of an old neighbour who was everyones friend. The day went really well and people came from all over to pay their respects. I know the family were really touched by this, and I think that if he hadn't touched so many lives as well; as his family has, it would have been a smaller affair.

Among the mourners were three brothers who have just lost their dad, they haven't had his funeral yet, it's tomorrow. I approached them all, expressed my sympathies and told them I would be there for their dads funeral. Looking at them I got to thinking how difficult it must have been for them to be at this one. Grief can completely dominate our thoughts and actions, a lot of the time it renders us unable to  do very much it all. It takes an extreme amount of strength to watch such emotional proceedings at such a difficult time. 

There was a time in the past when many people did this. You'd bury your husband on Tuesday and be ready to support the next families' funeral on Thursday. These were times when communities were strong and strength of character even stronger. 

One of the brothers regularly turns up to support his friends at funerals. I have seen him at so many.

The night before the funeral is the longest and most tiring. My thoughts are with the Newhouse Family and I hope they find the same amazing strength they have so often shown to others in their time of grief. 

I dedicate this blog to John Newhouse. Rest In Peace.

See you at the next posting.

Christmas Emotions

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

The crying we experience in everyday life is very different to crying because of grief. I think one form can be from frustration, anger, and even physical pain. But the tears from grief is etched so much deeper. As I've become older I have become more emotional. I seem to cry really easily. Things hurt me more.

Christmas time is always the most emotional. I want to cry more, express my sadness more, and sometimes I can get very  short with people if they upset me. I seem to take on a more direct attitude. In a nutshell, if I'm put out, i'll let you know loud and clear and as quickly as the words can leave my mouth.

I do like this time of year, but at the same time, it makes me angry, I think it's because I want to try and put right all the wrongs that have been done to me, ask others why they feel how they feel and expect a direct and prompt answer, get the apologies owed to me, and give my apologies. Trouble is.... I want to do it all before midnight on New Year's Eve. I feel quite exhausted fitting all that in. New Year's Eve tends to bring personal politics to the fore.

     Working with bereaved families can sometimes feel like this. The complicated family politics appear albeit stronger, but similar feelings come to the surface.

Whatever harsh words are spoken, every body feels the sadness, and everybody cries the same tears on the funeral day.

I drove along the route of my mums funeral on Christmas Day on the way to the cemetery The song 'Let Her Go' by passenger was playing on the radio and I suddenly began to cry. I was back at the funeral day. I never got to thank three people in particular that stuck in, and will always be in my mind for what they did that day; brandishing their shovels to bury our mum. Mark Reed, and my two cousins Roger and Eric Francois. Thank you, thank you, thank you all. From the bottom of my heart. 

        For everyone who is feeling their loss harder this time of year. I hope your fondest and dearest memories allow a smile in between the tears at midnight. Happy New Year.

See you at the next posting.

I dedicate this blog to the exceptionally strong and fiercely missed Iona Magloire. 

The Token Mourner

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography®

I'm on the last dvd of my Sopranos box set. In a previous episode Uncle Junior is going crazy being under house arrest, so he begins to use every opportunity to get permission to leave the house, by attending as many funerals as he can.

On the day of my mums funeral back in January 1996, I'd already attended so many funerals. When the funeral director arrived at the family home and saw me he smiled and said; 

'Here she is, the token mourner'. When I told him it was my mum he was clearly embarrassed but I understood why he said it. 

        To have attended 1-2 funerals every year since I was seventeen is an awful lot. Their frequency coupled with the importance to attend has become a foundation of my life. Quite honestly, I choose a funeral over a wedding every time. Yes, I enjoy them. Why? Because they are nearly always honest and sincere.  In eulogies, not only are a persons achievements remembered, but also their misgivings. They always keep me grounded and allow me to continuously evaluate my actions and my purpose in life. I don't make a decision to appreciate each day and make the most of life, then forget about it when I get home.
I can always see the importance in making an effort to attend a funeral as a mourner because the strength and comfort that comes from seeing family, friends, and familiar faces speaks volumes. It really helps to distract from the many silences we experience, along with deep thoughts and anxiety. 

I've become a familiar face now at many local funerals and hopefully a welcome one, and when it's my turn to die, I'm sure someone there will forget themselves for a second and say...... Where's Cilla????

I dedicate this blog to Lena Lloyd. I think of you often and you are still very much missed.

The Love of a Large Family

©Priscilla Etienne Funeography

On Wednesday the large family and even larger community got together to say a final farewell to Dorothy Howlett. To all that knew her well, Dolly. The family come from where I grew up and all of them were at school with me and my brothers and sisters. Taking this picture was emotionally overwhelming for me because I haven't seen them all together like this since I was a young girl. As soon as I was able to gather them together very briefly I took this opportunity. It was unexpected as the family had not commissioned Funeography but they kindly agreed to the picture.

One of the things that I have never seen before was an individual message from each of them inside the order of service booklet. I looked around the church and saw people crying as they were reading the messages. It was lovely to see Dolly's grand sons carry her into the horse drawn carriage, the tallest grandson kissing her coffin tenderly. Once we were inside the church, her sons carried her inside. I could see the clear pride on everyone's faces. 

Once back at the house I looked around, and in each room I could see the brothers and sisters coming in and out, with various friends behind them. I could hear laughter, arguments, singing, and even saw myself standing in the kitchen with Dolly's youngest daughter, in the days when we wore belts for skirts. It really was an open house with so much warmth the house practically glowed.

I would like to thank the Howlett family for opening their minds to the wonderful idea of a family portrait outside the beloved house they all once, and still do call home.

I dedicate this blog to Jim and Dorothy Howlett. Together again and watching over the wonderful legacy you both created. 

Thank You Richard Drew

Richard Drew (2001) The Falling Man

Richard Drew is a photographer for the Associated Press. On the 11th September 2001, it was the first day of fashion week and he was working in a studio. He was told about the world Trade Centre attacks by a colleague at the shoot and was then called by the office and told to abandon the shoot and head to the scene. He made his way toward West Street and when he got there he began taking pictures of the fire taking hold and the first scenes of devastation. Then a woman standing near to him said 'Look, look at those people'. Frightened for their lives and with no means of escape people made the no win decision of jumping from the windows of the building.

   That single image sparked a debate all over America and the world. Questions were being asked about why anyone would want to capture such a harrowing image, and who the man was. The debate spread and resulted in a documentary being made some years after the attacks. 

Of all the stories and interviews I listened to, this particular incident made me think about the scale of fear and confusion more than any other. I developed a great amount of respect and admiration for Richard Drew and I was thankful for the bravery he had to continue shooting and the respectful way he explained his reasons for taking the picture. 

I would have been compelled to continue shooting these images as well because my work is very much focused on human behaviour, emotion and reaction. 

It's alway better to see all sides of a situation even when it's difficult to accept. Photography isn't just about cute kittens and the prettiest bride on her wedding day. It's about moments in time, portraying a feeling without hearing sound and producing such a powerful, thought provoking image that it needs no explanation. 

For all these things........Thank you Richard Drew.

I dedicate this blog to all the men, women and children who lost their lives that day. May you rest in eternal peace.

Vilomah

I first had a strong insight into the life changing experience of losing a child, becoming (vilomah), when I was at university three years ago. The term Vilomah is what I prefer to use when a parent loses a child. It's an Indian term and means 'Against the natural order'.

 Since then I have taken pictures of the floral tributes left outside the late Danny O'Shea's house with permission from his mother Julie, although I had to ask another photographer to leave while I was there. He had set up a large tripod directly in front of the house. I didn't like it and I made it quite clear to him that he would need to leave as quickly as he came. When I see myself writing 'the late Danny O'Shea', I feel as if I should be talking about someone much older. He was too young to be 'late'. 

In the news last week Doreen Lawrence was given the title of Baroness and with it given a voice in parliament. All the ridicule and criticism she has suffered because of getting the title will run off her back, like water off a duck. Why? because all that she has done is for her son. For her child, the child that should still be here. 

I was at a funeral today. It was the funeral of a two-year-old boy who tragically lost his life in an accident at home. 

    We were gathering outside the family home waiting for the funeral directors to place the child in the car. There was silence, not the usual chatter you'd here. The mother took some time time to leave, understandably holding on to her final moments with the father. The funeral directors were really patient in giving the parents more time and they handled the whole day with natural empathy. I haven't seen that among funeral directors for some time. The funeral directors are Stibbard & Sons based in Hadleigh Essex.

There were some of his favourite childrens songs playing when we walked into the church, it surprised me but I'm not sure why. it's probably because I'm used to hearing music for an older child or an adult. All the family members that were set to do their eulogies did them with true grace. It's not an easy thing to do. The priest said something that struck a chord in me. He said that although he is not with us he does not cease to exist, and that he's more alive than we are. 

I feel emotionally drained from the intense emotions and strong displays of grief, but tonight I'll be thinking about the family and the first night of many; trying to cope with life without him.

I dedicate this blog to these children who left their parents behind.

Adam Regis, Robert Levy, Bobby Litambola, Tommy Harley, Terry Booker, Kiyan Prince, Sabeena Rizvi, Anton Hyman, Bakari Juda Davis.

See you at the next posting.