In loving memory

Today was uncle Brian's funeral.

Logistical challenges meant that, in the end, my children were (ably) represented by Hannah and Izzy, whom I collected from Euston and King's Cross respectively, last night. We got up earlyish this morning and went out to the Costa in Worcester Park for breakfast, thereby avoiding being under anyone's feet. But, just after ten, we went back home, where my mum showed me this photo of Brain (on the right) and my dad. Shortly afterwards, we set off to Guildford in a loose convoy.

Our fear of arriving late resulted in us all arriving tremendously early, so we wandered 'round the crematorium's grounds, willingly distracted by my three year old niece, who played happily amongst the memorials. I stopped reading them after a while, their finality repeatedly bringing tears to my eyes.

Sometime after eleven, we went back to the main building, where we ruefully greeted family and friends, some of whom I hadn't seen in over twenty years. Twice, three times, I saw a figure out of the corner of my eye and turned thinking it was Brian, who would always have been at such a gathering. Of course, he did arrive later but not in the way one would have wanted.

In fact, once there, the coffin lay in the hearse for about ten minutes while we all stood around in silence. It occurred to me that had Brian been there in life rather than spirit, he would have been the only one to crack a joke about the wait. (Indeed, at the end of a funeral many years earlier, he turned to an aging aunt and said "I've spoken to the vicar and he says there's not much point in you going home". It's a testament to his infectious sense of humour that there were no tears.)

Eventually, we moved inside and took our seats. The order of service featured this picture of Brian on the back and it hit me quite hard to see him, so young, mortality inconceivable, just how I remembered him from when I was small.

I don't think I really want to write about how it was after that, except to say that the service was as good as it could possibly have been, which, ironically, meant it was very sad. I was grateful to have Hannah next to me, taking my arm when necessary. It's so very hard to commemorate the life of someone so full of joy.

For what it's worth, I don't think the wake should be straight after the funeral. All these people whom I would normally have been overjoyed to see but I just wanted to go home.

Anyway... goodbye Brian. Thank you for all the love you gave me, throughout my life, and for showing me how to enjoy the life you have rather than life you might think you want.

To be honest, I still don't believe you're gone.