A funeral

Written by Theresa, a 50 year old Finance Manager from Kent, on September 6th 2010.

I was awake at 4am this morning - quite normal for me. I'm an early bird. I love the mornings, but today is not such a happy day. I have a funeral to go to. I had only met the chap half a dozen times over the last 20 years, but I know his wife really well. She is a kind person who loves her family and cares for all those around her. He was well know in the community, and yet not such a good communicator as his wife, so I never really got to know him. I went to the funeral today to give my friend support.

When we arrived in the car park, it was full of people. You could tell by the way people greeted each other, some had not seen each other in a long while. There was probably about 200 people, mostly older people. There was one chap in a wheel chair, and one who limped. There was a baby, only six weeks old. The parents seemed an older couple, possibly late 40’s.

Whilst black is still the colour to wear at a funeral, there were all sorts of colours worn. White tops for the ladies, and even one chap had a green fleece. Most men had ties, but there were a lot of the younger chaps with no tie and no jacket. But is doesn’t matter what you wear….it matters that you can support people when they need you. I have only lost two close people to me, both in December 2006, and the funerals were a blur. But I do know support is needed in the days that will come after.

He had four children. Two daughters and two sons. The eldest daughter did the most wonderful reading today. It moved me to tears. It talked about the real person (warts and all, in a positive way), and mentioned all the things her Dad had taught her, including betting on the dog and race horsing. Not many in the crowd cried, maybe three or four. I cried….mainly I think because of all the happy memories of my own Dad. He didn’t teach my to bet, but I am a daddies girl, and he did teach me DIY….I don’t want to loose him….but he’s 78. I know I only have him for a little longer. My Mum is 72, and whilst she was ill last year, she seems as strong as an ox…..but I know the day will come when I will loose her too.

Why do we say ‘loose’ someone. Do I not believe in God? Will I not always have my memories?