Gwahoddiad

Old Trevor’s funeral was held at Prestatyn Church. I know the Church well, mostly negative memories of family funerals for my grandparents , parents  and brother all had their final services there.

The church was cold and I was thankful for my new woollen coat.

I spied Animal Helper Pat and walked in with her, there was a good turn out given Trevor’s age

The young vicar Gregor performed the service after testing the microphones in the pulpits with a brusque 

testing ! Testing ! 

My mother would have frowned at that.

And in the half silence before service I remembered my grandmother being supported up the aisle by my mother and Uncle Jim at my grandad’s funeral

She was wailing “ My boy, ,my poor boy!” 

That was a bad funeral

Trevor’s was an uplifting one. 

A long eulogy read by Canon John Evans centred upon a life well enjoyed and lived but it was kind of sad to see the tiny coffin, just a little bigger than a child’s being wheeled past covered in lilies. 

The congregation sang Abide with me well and the Welsh hymn Gwahoddiad passably but it is really a hymn that needs a totally Welsh speaking congregation to do it proud, having said that I could hear Animal Helper Pat’s sweet soprano mingling in with my sudden bass . And a few Welsh voices at the back lifted the harmony enough for it to be moving.

I didn’t stay around the Church door after the service as so many do.

I find all that really embarrassing.

I walked around the Church and looked briefly at my parent’s Gravestone which lay unattended and cold looking, before heading off for home. 

My new coat keeping me warm was a comfort on a bittersweet day.