So I am back home. The funeral wasn’t that sad. Some old guy who should be driving crunched his BMW into another car at the crematorium, but that was about the height of the drama. Yogi (the nickname of my grandma) arrived in an Ambulance and was accompanied to the wake (which was not called a wake but ‘afternoon tea’) by the Ambulance crew who took her back to hospital later.
We do funerals do differently over here to America. For a start the coffin doesn’t look like a Caddilac, it’s just a simply wooden coffin, nothing grand at all. Then there is that whole British ‘stiff upper lip’ thing. It’s a funeral, but emotions are kept very much under wraps. The Vicar was a nice guy, he said a few words in the way that only English Vicars seem able to speak. Then after a couple of hymns they do this prayer of committal while some big curtain glides in-front of the coffin. I looked at the floor for that whole bit because I didn’t want to see that, and also I think that whole thing is so cheesy.
It was nice seeing relatives, and meeting a few people I’d never met before. We’re not a close family, and living so far from them all I feel more disconnected than most, but that aside it was good to make this momentary reconnection. I rode to the ‘afternoon tea’ with Yogi in the Ambulance. She was surprisingly upbeat and seemed a lot more like her old self compared to the last time I saw her just before Granddad died. I had the feeling she had accepted things, the changes in her life and the fact that Granddad was gone.
My Mom told me that 6 years ago when my Granddad’s brother died of ‘old age’ Yogi cried and cried at his funeral. Mom said that at the time she was surprised at Yogi’s grief, but later she realized that Yogi wasn’t so much crying for George, but for herself. She had known George as long as Granddad (they were married 64 years) and she suddenly realized that death was among them now. That these really were the last days of their lives. I’d never before thought about what it must be like to be old like that. Never thought about how it must feel. The recent weeks have given me a lot to think about and just confirmed to me that life moves fast and we shouldn’t waste a moment.
Wrote the following comment on Feb 6, 2005 at 9:56 am
Not that I am disagreeing with what Nunaluli wrote, but do dead people really ‘look down on us’? That just sounds like something we say to comfort ourselves, and while there is nothing wrong with that I can’t imagine it’s true. Because if it is, who will they look down upon when everyone they know is also dead. Heaven is an enigma, often wrapped up in the up in the complications of organized ‘man-made’ religion, much of which makes heaven it’s own exclusive property.
Wrote the following comment on Feb 6, 2005 at 5:01 am
It’s horrible to think about, isn’t it? Death. But, it comes to all, it wilts and shrivels, deprives us of mind and stamina, then poof, we’re gone. Hugs to you, Si.. I hope you find your way through it.
Wrote the following comment on Feb 6, 2005 at 6:23 am
I’d much rather find amazement and wonder. Having a good friend (for 64 years nonetheless) is one of the best gifts that we can receive. A sympathetic ear, a hug, a helping hand. It must be difficult to let go, to know that “death was among them now”, but I’d much rather value the life that he led and feel grateful for my friend, than to feel sorrow because he is now gone. Funerals are never a celebration of death, rather than an embracing of the loved person’s life, helping them through the passage of pain, and helping them arrive to heaven where they can look down on us.