Dealing with Death the Coyote* Way

*Within Native American shamanism, it is believed that we all have power animals who help us through life.
One of mine is Coyote whose archetypal playful energy teaches people life lessons through trickery and humour.

On the morning of December 28th, 2019, I was in the car park overlooking the beach outside the registrar’s office in the council building adjacent to Swansea Bay. It was a cold, miserable day, and the constant drizzle and wind blowing from the sea hid my tears. I wanted to scream, and although the beach was empty apart from a lone figure walking a black Labrador in the distance, I feared I might be considered suicidal if I screamed, so I headed back to my car and sat for a while composing myself.

Four days earlier, at 7:15 pm on December 24th, I received a phone call from the hospital where Mum was on end-of-life care. The anxious voice of a young trainee nurse asked, ‘Is that Anona Blackwell?’

‘Yes’ I replied.’

Is that Dr Anona Lynne Blackwell ?’

‘Yes’.
‘Are you the daughter of Elsie Thomas?’

‘Yes’. ‘Is that Elsie Irene Thomas ?’

‘Yes’.

‘Is her date of birth July 30th 1st, 1920 ?’

I had had enough.
‘She’s dead, isn’t she? Don’t be afraid,’ I said.

The nurse was very distressed, and I suspected the last thing she wanted to do on Christmas Eve was to inform anyone, let alone a former consultant, that her mum had died. I calmed her down and was then able to get the practical details for getting the medical documents I needed to register Mum’s death. That was it. I was officially a seventy-year-old orphan and was finally utterly alone with my dog.

Friends invited me to stay with them but the thought of joining a happy family over Christmas would only make my grief more challenging to bear. So, on Boxing Day, to cheer myself up, I went hunter-gatherers to Tesco and bought a massive free-range half-price turkey, which remains in my freezer some five years later. It will make good dog food, I reasoned .

After a few minutes of sitting in my car, I was sufficiently composed to seek out the relevant part of the strangely deserted, gaunt concrete building. I wore an old woolen pullover, jeans, a long, wet raincoat, and a bobble hat. I carried Mum’s papers in a Tesco carrier bag. I was indeed an archetypal bag lady and my appearance reflected my mood.

The council had designated the morning session as open only for registration of deaths. As I entered the gloomy waiting room, this was all too apparent. The ceiling was low, and the room was large and dimly lit with no windows. People huddled in groups of two or three, and I could hear muted voices and snippets of conversation:

‘Don’t cry, he’s in a better place.’

‘He had a good innings.’

And, ‘Aunty Mary promised me her brass candlesticks just before she died; God Bless.’

I felt like I was in a metaphorical oven that had been sprayed with grief cleaner, and the toxic drips of black despair dripped onto my head and stung my eyes. In one corner sat two delightful young men who were incongruously cheerful and holding hands. They glanced at me and smiled as I looked for a seat.

I surveyed the room and announced with gusto, ‘Well, I take it no one had a good Christmas then?’

The two young men giggled, but the other thirty or so people glared at me, and I quickly sat down in the only remaining seat in the naughty corner. Coyote’s attempts to lighten the mood had failed, and I wanted to sulk.

An hour passed. I amused myself by thinking about funny events I had shared with Mum over the years..like never being able to sit next to her at funerals because she always sang out of tune, which invariably sent me into uncontrollable laughter. My occasional chuckle on this silent reminiscing was greeted by smiles from the young men but scowls from the rest of my temporary roommates.

At last, my mother’s name was called, and I got up but pointed out that the two rather handsome men were before me. The receptionist said it was okay; two registrars were on duty, and the men would be summoned next. I responded by saying that I hoped to pull one of the guys later and did not want to spoil my chances by stealing their place in the queue.

This time, the remaining occupants, including the couple, laughed. The energy lifted; I replaced my bobble hat, picked up my Tesco bag, and toddled off to officially ease Mum on her way.

Coyote wagged his tail.