| My last post, on the 31st of October, took the seasonal festival of Samhain/Hallowe'en/Día de los Muertos as an opportunity to reflect briefly on my experience of loss and relationship with death. Little did I know, as I turned a pumpkin recipe into an excuse to muse on mortality, that less than a fortnight later I'd be holding my mum's hand as she finally let go of her colourful life. Of course, that marked the start of not so much a new process of grieving as the Admin Phase and the weeks since that time have seen not only the planned flurry of festive fairs and seasonal baking but also legal, financial and organisational duties as an only child and sole next of kin. Today, I had the honour and privilege of holding a relaxed ritual space for my mum's funeral and several people, some present, some absent, have asked for a copy of the eulogy. So here it is. I guess it becomes more of an obituary now it's published in written form but since it's a longer piece it's perhaps better to think of it simply as a life story. Mum was an active blogger too, so posting it here seems like not only a practical way of sharing it widely, including with her many online friends, it also feels very fitting. I will share more about Christmas markets and exciting plans for the new year soon. In the meantime, I'm going to allow myself a bit of space for the Grieving Phase. Goodbye Mystic Chris. Thanks for having me. |  Mystic Chris: 27/11/57 - 13/11/24: (With Thanks to Alan Yates) |
 Chris with Kieron and Uncle Ron in October 2016 | Thank you for coming to say goodbye to Chris this morning. I'm her daughter, Annabeth. When I was little, and not so little, I'd often make cards for mum's birthdays, which she seemed to appreciate just a little more than less personal shop bought greetings. Choosing a 'Family Led' funeral is the last chance I have to hand craft something for her. I also know full well how little mum enjoyed formal events of this nature and it feels more easeful in many ways to hold this space myself with support from mum's friends. It wasn't always easy to predict how mum would feel about things but I'm pretty certain that in this case she would have approved. |
Neither it easy to summarise 66 years in 10 minutes but I've tried to compose these words like a prism might capture a single beam of white light to demonstrate a rainbow. Mum was a multi faceted person and I'm attempting to touch on many of these with the love, respect and authenticity that befits her, whilst occasionally evoking her irreverent sense of humour!
| I believe it's traditional to begin a eulogy with basic facts. Mum was born in Epsom, in 1957 to Gordon and Valerie Lawrence, and baptised Christine Mary. Her name presented some challenges for her throughout life, not least the number of wasted Christmas cards accidentally signed 'Merry Christine', and she much preferred the gender neutral 'Chris' as she noted prompter and less condescending correspondence when people assumed she was male. Her first home was at Sussex Gardens in Chessington, where she lived with her parents and younger brother Jim. In 1964 the family moved to a larger home in Kingswood Close, Surbiton and in 1967 they were joined by little brother Peter. Other family relationships that were important to her include her grandparents; she was very proud that Grandad Lawrence had been Foreign Editor of the Daily Mail though took pains to be sure you knew 'it was a respectable newspaper then'! She also spoke with great affection of her maternal great grandmother Mimi, grandmother Nanna, and her maternal grandfather. She often referenced 'Grandad Scott' when reflecting on her great love for the natural world and especially recounted his knowledge of flora and fauna, indeed I grew up feeling that I could tell a primrose from a cowslip for example, because of his knowledge handed down to me through her.  Chris, me and Michael, mid 1980's |  A very little me with a very young mum... 1983 (or something) Another important family relationship is that which she treasured with her ‘bestest’ paternal uncle Ron, and through my early childhood, a fortnight spent with him on the Essex coast was a highlight of our summer. In her later years, as a non driver, she struggled with quite bad travel anxiety yet such was her love for Ron that she did manage the journey across London and out to Leigh on Sea by train on occasion. It made a real impression on me that when he was admitted to hospital twice during his final days she felt moved to make that journey both times, setting aside her personal discomfort. Perhaps just one example of the reserves of inner strength that she could tap into at times of difficulty. In fact, though mum would be the first to admit to her struggles with the everyday challenges of managing life that she often referenced as 'adulting', I have never been in any doubt that she was an excellent companion in an emergency. |
Saturday Afternoon (Posed!) Snooze
Education was a mixed bag for mum and it's fair to say that conventional pedagogy of the sixties and seventies was unequipped to cater to her needs. Most of her stories of time at Surbiton High revolved around relating various attempts to be expelled. She often referenced the notorious St Trinians in attempts to describe the experience of school and she did have a way of engaging with life that was incorrigibly naughty; I have recently held close to the mental image of her face creased into barely suppressed giggles as she tried to catch my eye at some deliciously inappropriate moment, such as this one. Despite this, she was an intelligent woman, an avid reader, witty, creative and crafty (in more ways than one!). Learning and knowledge were deeply important to her and I have many memories of home teaching; she taught me to read and write long before I went to school. She also continued to enjoy acquiring skills and knowledge of various topics right through her life. She was curious and easily fascinated.
| Upon finally breaking free of school, she attended secretarial college before entering the world of work at a theatre lighting company in Central London and then as an arts and handicrafts instructor at a local nursing home. Around this time she met my dad, Michael, at a local amateur dramatics society and they were married at St Mark's church in Surbiton on the 28th of April 1979. Mike and Chris set up a home together on Garrison Lane in Chessington and kindly arranged for me to be delivered as a fiftieth birthday present to her mum, Valerie on the 28th of June 1981. When I was born, Chris stopped work, as many new mothers do though I can't bring myself to use the term 'housewife' because the image that conjures couldn't be further from the reality of how she brought value to my young life. Preferring to invest her energies in less domestic areas, she joined the board of parent governors at my primary school and volunteered with peripheral activities, such as sitting with children learning to use computers or supporting class teachers. |  With Puck the Squirrel! |
When I developed an interest in environmental issues and animal rights at age nine, far from throwing her hands up in horror at being asked to provide a vegetarian diet in the early nineties (it wasn't quite so mainstream then), she in fact joined me in that shift and together we became involved in various local and national campaigns seeking to raise awareness and affect positive change. She especially enjoyed her years volunteering in the café at The Beacon environmental centre from the early to mid nineties, where she formed many life long friendships. Chris was a liberal mother and was more concerned to make sure I felt comfortable to discuss anything with her than to create structures of discipline that might drive me to secrecy. In fact, many of my school or college friends commented that we were more like friends than mother and daughter. Indeed, over time, Chris came to feel increasingly restricted by the traditional roles ascribed to her and to seek fulfilment beyond these limitations. Ultimately, this led to the end of her marriage to Michael, a painful and stressful time for all the family but one that did eventually lead to happier times.
Chris went back to work in the mid nineties and did all she could to support us to stay in the maisonette on Garrison Lane. She initially took work in a local nursery and then spent some years as a receptionist at an opticians, but these feel like inconsequential details and she really couldn't be defined by any job title. The world of formal employment was as much of an alien territory to mum as school had been and though she persevered, she never found a paid role that worked for her in the long term. She was always happier pouring her energy into community projects, volunteering roles and local campaigns; many are the times she gave a particularly sharp piece of her mind during Council meetings at Guildhall and she certainly wasn't afraid of delivering a cutting heckle. I especially well remember her enthusiastic involvement in setting up Chessington Hall Residents Association, alongside Kieron with whom she was by then partnered. Meeting Kieron signalled the advent of some happier times, when we would enjoy long walks in the local greenbelt, stargazing trips to nearby Winey Hill or cosy evenings in with bottomless cups of tea! Time with Kieron also rekindled a childhood interest in aeroplanes and they visited air fields and museums together.
Chris and Kieron in The Lamb, Kingston, 1997
In May 2006, the death of Chris' father and mother just 18 days apart marked a real low point in her life and it came to light that she was seriously struggling to live alone. She entered a significant period of depression and vulnerability and I remain deeply grateful to Kieron for sticking by her side through these difficult years, taking necessary action in supporting her to resolve debts and even offering her a home with him when it became clear it wasn't tenable for her to retain the property at Garrison Lane. She lived with Kieron in York Way, Chessington, until she went into hospital in January of this year and I have no doubt that it was the stability of being welcomed into his home which enabled mum to relax into many of the activities that brought her so much joy in what were to be the final years of her life.
Amongst those things were a deepening interest in spiritual and esoteric matters. She attended crystal healing courses and began learning Celtic tree lore, including the Ogham alphabet, reminiscent of a time some years back when she had taught herself to read runes. She turned her voracious appetite for books to the topics of Druidry, Paganism and Witchcraft and began a journey of self development in line with the beliefs of these faiths, which happily complemented my own practice of Buddhism, so we enjoyed long conversations on all sorts of spiritual matters.
During the pandemic, mum proactively enjoyed making new friends online and through regular calls into shows presented by Neil Long on Radio Jackie, who also became a personal friend. Due to the nature of many of her contributions to his breakfast show on air, Neil awarded her the nickname Mystic Chris, which she absolutely loved, and she used that moniker to start a blog page on Facebook where she relished utilising the natural writing skills of an eclectic reader to share various musings on topics influenced by her interest in Paganism. Her regular readers especially appreciated her willingness to share and reflect on her vulnerable moments and she confided in me that though she was delighted when people found her posts relatable, the writing was a hugely cathartic process in itself.
In many of the last calls I had with her before she went into hospital, the focus of her excitement related to an increasing involvement in building friendships and volunteering her time at the weekly Square 1 Community Café in Chessington, set up to offer a safe and inclusive space for people experiencing loneliness and isolation. Such projects gave mum a sense of meaning and perspective, and she was looking forward to mental health first aid training to equip her more fully in her role there. She joined the Pagan Federation too and began attending moots and rituals, meeting many like minded souls in person and extending her social group for the first time in some years.
Even in the last months of life, she remained a memorable character. Following life changing surgery in February, she spent some time at Kingston Hospital, then in Teddington Memorial Hospital for rehabilitation. She finally moved to Hamilton House nursing home in July where she planned to build her strength back and move to more independent living. She'd barely been resident a week before she was proof reading and submitting content for the newsletter and proudly telling me she was the first resident to help interview a new member of staff! She enjoyed life at Hamilton and formed fond relations with staff, of whom she always spoke highly. If you met mum, even briefly, there's a good chance you wouldn't forget her quickly!
Amongst those things were a deepening interest in spiritual and esoteric matters. She attended crystal healing courses and began learning Celtic tree lore, including the Ogham alphabet, reminiscent of a time some years back when she had taught herself to read runes. She turned her voracious appetite for books to the topics of Druidry, Paganism and Witchcraft and began a journey of self development in line with the beliefs of these faiths, which happily complemented my own practice of Buddhism, so we enjoyed long conversations on all sorts of spiritual matters.
During the pandemic, mum proactively enjoyed making new friends online and through regular calls into shows presented by Neil Long on Radio Jackie, who also became a personal friend. Due to the nature of many of her contributions to his breakfast show on air, Neil awarded her the nickname Mystic Chris, which she absolutely loved, and she used that moniker to start a blog page on Facebook where she relished utilising the natural writing skills of an eclectic reader to share various musings on topics influenced by her interest in Paganism. Her regular readers especially appreciated her willingness to share and reflect on her vulnerable moments and she confided in me that though she was delighted when people found her posts relatable, the writing was a hugely cathartic process in itself.
In many of the last calls I had with her before she went into hospital, the focus of her excitement related to an increasing involvement in building friendships and volunteering her time at the weekly Square 1 Community Café in Chessington, set up to offer a safe and inclusive space for people experiencing loneliness and isolation. Such projects gave mum a sense of meaning and perspective, and she was looking forward to mental health first aid training to equip her more fully in her role there. She joined the Pagan Federation too and began attending moots and rituals, meeting many like minded souls in person and extending her social group for the first time in some years.
Even in the last months of life, she remained a memorable character. Following life changing surgery in February, she spent some time at Kingston Hospital, then in Teddington Memorial Hospital for rehabilitation. She finally moved to Hamilton House nursing home in July where she planned to build her strength back and move to more independent living. She'd barely been resident a week before she was proof reading and submitting content for the newsletter and proudly telling me she was the first resident to help interview a new member of staff! She enjoyed life at Hamilton and formed fond relations with staff, of whom she always spoke highly. If you met mum, even briefly, there's a good chance you wouldn't forget her quickly!
Leigh on Sea, October 2016
We will all have different memories and impressions of Chris. She was often a warm, approachable and open minded woman who made friends easily and had a genuine desire to give her energy to those around her whenever she could. She could have an infectious sense of humour and I hope many of you will have memories of mischievous grins and cheeky giggles as well as the listening ear and well timed cups of tea. But it would in no way honour any human life, let alone the memory of someone as unique as Chris to lay only the light to rest. There are a few of you here who will also have intimately known what life could be like to live with mum when she was embattled by her darker moods and it is in knowing that she is now relieved of their weight that I have found most consolation in recent days. I think she would want me to share that in her later years, she came to identify as neurodiverse, and it is my belief that if she had been born today she would have had better access to the necessary support mechanisms that empower a neurodiverse brain in a neurotypical world. Life, as one is expected to live it, didn't always suit my mum and I believe her discovery of witchcraft and the Pagan faith was maybe the first time in her life she found a way to form an identity that felt closer to her lived experience of herself than the labels of ‘daughter’, ‘mother' or 'wife'. I believe it was the closest she came to being truly happy.
Despite having spoken for probably longer than I’m supposed to, I’ve barely scratched the surface of mum and I've edited out more than I wanted. She had so many qualities, sometimes conflicted energies and a depth of character that rendered her mystic perhaps to herself more than anyone. For that reason, her memory evades simple summary but amongst so many other things I shall remember her as a brave, colourful, fish out of water, a bearer of potential, uncomfortable in urban hustle and bustle, preferring a quiet life close to nature and the gentle company of cats... unless something exciting caught her attention or she caught wind of a juicy cause to fight!
Despite having spoken for probably longer than I’m supposed to, I’ve barely scratched the surface of mum and I've edited out more than I wanted. She had so many qualities, sometimes conflicted energies and a depth of character that rendered her mystic perhaps to herself more than anyone. For that reason, her memory evades simple summary but amongst so many other things I shall remember her as a brave, colourful, fish out of water, a bearer of potential, uncomfortable in urban hustle and bustle, preferring a quiet life close to nature and the gentle company of cats... unless something exciting caught her attention or she caught wind of a juicy cause to fight!
'Selfie' with me and mum; October 2016
Mum, your life was in many ways a mystery, and I know life was often a mystery to you too. May you return now, at ease and at peace, to the mysterious here after. Go well, into the unknowable and lay your burdens down as we commit your body to the flames of transformation. May the light of your faith guide you to the loving arms of the Goddess and may the darknesses you knew cast no shadows on the next stage of your journey.
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