random

took a walk out this morning, needed the exercise, needed to be doing something rather than sitting waiting, and it's glorious out there. seemed wrong, but then N loved a drive out in the country on a nice day; maybe he's up there with the buzzards watching us all.

never been to a cremation, parents warned it would be grim, impersonal, short, conveyer-belt. ok, says i, but i'm still going. we're still going. my parents knew S's parents when they were our age and younger; they've gotten lost off over the years but she and i found each other and carried on.

so we get there, all smartened, suited and booted. and we recognise... no-one. finally we seen S's mum, so we're in the right place. but only she and my parents are here from those days; apart from some family all the rest are friends of J's or friends they made as a couple. S confessed she's felt like a spare part all week; everyone says sorry to J, but have no idea who she is.

for all that and for all it's short and conveyer-belt it's a good service. there are some lovely words from friends of the family, about friends and family. there's no church pews, just a little room; no hymns, but some music that means something; no sermon, but a humanist officiant who says wonderful things about returning to nature which are so very right (my father admits later he wouldn't mind something like that when he, the anti-churchman fearful of hypocrisy, pops off this mortal coil). i manage to hold it together all the way through this, and then we have the final piece of exit music and though i know it's coming i lose it totally and begin to weep. father and daughter bonded as petrolheads and car lovers; son is a biker; partner learned to love the obsession. N was a huge fan of 'top gear' and when S said they were thinking about it i said 'hell yeah'. so he leaves, and we leave him, to the slick riffs of 'jessica' by the allman brothers.

back to alnwick and something of a wake - ish. i could've wished for ham rolls and a general invite to bring a few old friends out of the woodwork, but we have drinks and eat crisps (and later big dishes of chips) and talk, and swap tales, and figure out where were all are. i gravitate to J and his pal, they make me feel so old but i can still speak the language of drinks and gigs and loud music; i chat with J's inner circle about families and coping and allotments; i chat with S and C and his partner about road trips to be taken, all knowing that we may never even be in the same room again, let alone it be a motel room on the us west coast. but this is what you talk about when you need to look forward after looking back.

random conversations. random choices. random lottery potluck to get diagnosed or not, in time or not, treated properly or not. it's no use asking why, no-one has an answer, but random really f***ing sucks sometimes.