Bitter-sweet

We had a bitter-sweet day today. We were up early and rootling through our wardrobes to find clothes that would fit and be suitable for a funeral. I was lucky – I quickly found a lovely dress and jacket that I’ve had a while, but still fitted me well. John was not so lucky – he had to try on several pairs of trousers before he found a smart pair that were just the correct waist size.

Anyway, once we were suited and booted, we made our way across from Balsall to Coventry, to St Mary Magdalen Church, the-one-with-the-blue-roof, for dear Brian’s funeral. And that was the bitter part of the day. The saying goodbye. The knowledge that those promises we’d made, of: “We must get together sometime soon,” now weren’t going to be.

But the service for Brian was wonderfully uplifting. The priest knew Brian well and was sincere with her words throughout. Peter, Brian’s son, gave the address and made it so powerful that he evoked Brian there, in the church, with us. Linda, Brian’s daughter, offered us a beautiful poem – and managed to get through it admirably, despite the overwhelming emotions it generated. I thought it spot on. You may know it, but if you don’t, here it is:

He is gone

You can shed tears that he is gone
Or you can smile because he has lived

 You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left

 Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared

 You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

 You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on  

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

 

We followed Brian to the crematorium, where we said our tearful goodbyes.

And then came the sweet bit. At the crem, I bumped into an ex-colleague from OCR, Linda S, and was delighted that she remembered me, too. Her connection was through Brian’s daughter Linda. I then met a chap from the village, Chris, whom I hadn’t seen for a long time. His connection was through playing table tennis with Janet and Brian.

As we made our way into the suite of rooms at the Village Hotel, hired for the Wake, I recognised Barbara and Phil, also from our village. Their connection to Brian? Also table-tennis. We sat and chatted to them for a while and then we all moved into the dining area, where we watched a slide-show of Brian’s life scroll before us. What memories the photos induced!

“Are these seats free?” we asked the already-incumbents at one of the dining tables. “Yes, help yourselves,” they replied. So we sat – and started chatting. “What’s your connection to Brian?” we asked each other. “I was their bridesmaid,” said the lady, Wendy. “So was I!” I replied, gleefully. And there we were on the photos scrolling past. I did remember her – 60 years later, but there was the face I had seen and walked alongside on Janet and Brian’s wedding day. Her sister, Rhoda, was there too, whom I also remembered.

And so, a day of meeting relatives we hadn’t seen for such a long time, exclaiming over when we last met and what had happened in the intervening years. It was lovely – even if the occasion wasn’t. In particular, we felt all the love in the world for cousins Janet, Peter and Linda as we chatted to them during the course of the afternoon. Such lovely people.

We didn’t think about COVID, or Afghanistan, or any of the other things going on in the world today. We focused today on a life well-lived, and the people Brian loved and who loved him.

Take care everyone. God bless.