Anyhow, this "quiet" time, got me to thinking about all the funerals I have sat through in my 45 years.
All funerals are by nature sad, but I do remember just one being a rather happy sort of affair!
A colleague, Janet, from Sheffield had planned her humanist funeral down to the last detail, and the reader that led the service did so with humour,talent and with an actor's flair for the spotlight. The congregation clapped and smiled along with the stories he told, and the much bandied around word of celebration fitted the occasion perfectly.
I spoke at my mother's funeral, and gained great solace in doing so. The very act of performing an eulogy gave me something to focus on which was separate from the occasion itself, and that diversion helped me through a difficult day. My grandfather's funeral on the other hand, was made into a comical farce by the fact that our car was side swiped by a lorry (no one was hurt!) on the way to the church, and Ann, Janet and I had to leg it quick sticks up the aisle seconds before the coffin arrived.Conversely,the same funeral was later made almost unbearable by my grandmother's crys of "my boy, my poor boy" as she followed my grandfather's coffin from the Church.
I have been in congregations of a handful and have been squashed on pews amongst crowds of people. Some hymns could hardly be heard when sung, where as in the case of Nia's Father Charles, a hundred or so Welsh voices lifted the roof with quality and passion.
I have stifled a giggle when nerves got the best of me and have become angry at a vicar's insensitive handling of the facts, but it is strange that during the dozens of funerals I have attended I have never cried in any of them.
That, to me is a private thing. Something you do when safely alone. In actual fact the last death I cried at was Fin's nearly a year ago, and that too, was done alone, in the car, with his little wrapped body on the passenger seat next to me.
I was happy that I had made the effort to go today. The eulogies performed by my patient's sons were moving and heartfelt,the minister (with her thick Brummie accent) was warm and appropriate with her words, and the family I had
got to know so well over nearly three months, seemed to have received some comfort with me being there to share something so personal.
I got home later than I had hoped and after dog duties I made the most of the weak sun and planted a row of raspberry canes (bottom pic) I even had time to put in one gooseberry bush ( for Chris) before packing up for the day.
The new girls are quite interesting characters. They differ quite a lot from the bog standard chickens of the main coop, and look a little like tv roadrunner when banging around the run.(above is Scarlett making a dash for the hen house)
I also have enrolled again in the local Bee keepers course at the University of Bangor's agricultural research station near Abergwyngregyn. I put Chris' name down too, should be fun seeing him in a bee keepers outfit.
Off to the pics later to see Once (2006)
