Saying goodbye

We were up early on this beautiful morning so that we wouldn't be rushed to be at the funeral of someone who died too young, the husband of a friend in our musical and church circles. Himself was playing the organ, I was to read the first lesson. After that we were supposed to be going to lunch in Glasgow - a longstanding arrangement - but my cousin phoned at breakfast to say they were both full of the cold and would we like to reschedule. You bet we would - I'm far too busy next week to have a cold!

The funeral was in our wee church, a building familiar, I'd think, to followers of this journal. As we drove up the driveway we could see cars parked all along the road below the church, people walking up the steep hill - but the parking spot where the rectory garage used to be (it sort of disintegrated) was empty and all was well. But the church was already filling up, and I was sure I'd be standing for the whole service ...

In the end I was asked to sit at the front so that I could get out easily to read, as the church filled up behind us, the congregation overspilling into the narthex, great groups of men together - I've never attended a funeral like this. Joe was a local man, a joiner who, among other things, redesigned our bathroom wall  many years ago; a backstage operator for the Scout Gang Shows in which our boys took part ( and Himself was MD). He was well-known, famous for his wisecracking and his crazy jokes. There they sat, these rows of men in whom I could recognise boys that I had taught, boys that Himself had taught, until we reckoned that there were perhaps 160 present in a church that I'd once filled to 125 for a concert and thought would never hold more. And they sang! Sitting at the front, I felt lifted on a wall of sound. Louisa had chosen such well-known, appropriate hymns that everyone could join in, and Himself has a way of accompanying singing that makes people want to sing. Everyone was talking about it afterwards, but at the time it felt like a time shift back to when everyone went to church, a time when people stayed in their communities and the sense of continuity was strong. 

The rest of the day sort of slid past - a quick visit back home to drop off the car and have a quick strong coffee, then over to the Burgh Hall for the baked meats, which substituted for the cancelled lunch. After that we went for a walk up Glen Massan, noting as we went the effect this walk had on my heart rate (we'd been listening to the news about the latest research) to see how high it went (130BPM, if you're interested). Then a phone call to #1 son, dinner and online Compline - and the inevitable slumbering over the TV at the end of it all.

Blipping the flower and candle arrangement in the narthex of the church, where the walls are stripped back to the bare stone. The whole church was beautiful with flowers and candles, but I'm particularly pleased with this one. This was a day when everything seemed to come together for good, and I'm glad to have been part of it.