Blog archive April 2025
09.04.25 / 02 / wistful bear
The Wistful Bear was given to my father about 25 years ago. It spent most of that time sitting on a bookshelf in the living room, being petted occasionally. I always liked it, and after my mother died I took possession of it, since nobody else seemed to mind.
Wistful Bear is how I’ve thought of it all these years. Its searching and concerned expression makes it comforting as a companion animal. It has never had any actual name as far as I know, I need to find one.
09.04.25 / 01 / funeral
The funeral yesterday was beautiful. Everything went perfectly, and the sun shone all day in a cloudless sky. It's a piece of theatre. We chose music that she liked. The entrance music was 'Unforgettable' by Nat King Cole, the exit music was 'They can't take that away from me' by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Under the tribute slideshow, 'Moonlight Serenade' by Glenn Miller. The slideshow was Mum from babyhood to old age, timed to the music. The only flaw was that the sun shone directly on the big screen when we got to that bit, which rather amused me - you could watch it on the repeater screens anyway.
One of my brothers read this prayer:
We give them back to you, dear Lord, who gave them to us. Yet as you did not lose them in giving, so we have not lost them by their return. What you gave you take not away, O Lover of souls; for what is yours is ours also if we are yours.
And life is eternal and love is immortal, and death is only an horizon, and an horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, strong Son of God, that we may see further; cleanse our eyes that we may see more clearly; and draw us closer to yourself that we may know ourselves to be nearer to our loved ones who are with you.
And while you prepare a place for us, prepare us also for that happy place, that where they are and you are, we too may be for evermore.
(William Penn, 1644-1718)
I couldn't really tell who was in church because I was walking behind the bearers in and out and had to focus on not bumping into the coffin, and while reading the tribute I was focussed on my script.
The town cemetery is a beautiful place, especially on a warm sunny day in spring. The clay soil allows for an amazingly precise and deep cut without shoring. We all threw a handful of earth on the coffin, but not flowers, cuddly toys etc which Mum would have found far too fussy.
And then to the nearby community centre for refreshments. We watched an extended version of the slideshow, and explored the garden.
Today we went back to the cemetery to see the filled grave and the flowers. The headstone has gone into storage, it takes a year for the earth to settle, and then it will be reinstalled with an additional inscription. In the meantime there is a wooden cross. It's hard to feel sad. We feel that she would be pleased.
When my father died in 2006, my camera was a big SLR - too big to take photos quietly during the funeral. I didn't have an adequate camera on my phone, and people would have been disturbed or offended. Now I could snap unobtrusively and nobody minded. I didn't take photos in church, as 'lead mourner' up at the front I couldn't do it, which was a shame because the coffin on its trestles looked beautiful.
I'm struck by the difference in my mood between the two funerals. This one was a joy.
