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Rosalie's Funeral
I wrote most of this last night, but frustratingly lost the file. I've decided
to write it again, mainly so that I have a record if I need to revisit this day
myself.
The funeral was a mixture of ups and downs, tears and occasional laughter.
We (Richard and myself and our sons Kelvin and Henry) travelled via Staples so I
could copy a couple of pages from my photo album. I have very few photos as I
stopped taking many about the time my shoulder went bad (I can't annotate the
pages easily), but I did have a couple of Rosalie that I wanted to hand over to
go in her memory book for the children.
Staples had surprisingly reasonable prices and were very quick to boot.
We just made it to Reading by 2.15. The pub where we'd stopped for lunch had
just changed hands and was rather disorganised as a result. However, we made it
to St Andrews in time.
It reminded me of a scene from HMS Pinafore. "His sisters and his cousins which
he reckons up by dozens, his sisters and his cousins and his aunts" Rosalie had
a lot of relatives and even more friends. Word of mouth had spread very
effectively and the church must have had around 200 people.
As far as family went, there were three sisters (Canadian brother could not
afford both wedding and funeral and wisely chose the wedding), two nephews and
two neices on that side of the family (Canadian neice not there for obvious
reasons), then a couple more nephews on her husband's side. Rosalie had six
cousins and I think five of them were there, along with their spouses and
children. Both her aunts, of course.
Friends came from everywhere. I was to talk to people who'd been part of her
ante-natal group (and who had all stayed close as their children grew and are
friends of David as well), people who knew her through scouting, caving, her
husband's family and friends and others I never had a chance to say hello to.
And there was Alastair, bless him. My first ever boyfriend when I was back at
school; he became like an adopted member of our family. I remember him and
Richard playing catch with Rosalie and Gillian, using them as the ball...
That's how young she was when he first knew her. Alastair's wife is like
another sister to me, his daughter feels like a neice. My family are the same
to him.
I was looking at the church candles, and was suddenly reminded of a recent LJ
posting. I remarked to Alastair that I'd just been reminded of something way
too indecent to mention just before a funeral, but I post the link here because
I'm sure he was curious... whotheheckami:
Help Neededwhotheheckami: Help Needed
Insofar as a funeral can be good, it was well done. I cried a lot, especially
during the hymns (and I do not cry easily). Rosalie had chosen all the hymns
herself (she wasn't a Christian six months ago - I don't know what her beliefs
were when she died, but I know she spent time talking to the hospice chaplain).
We were all brought up Church of England, but all of us bar another sister were
athiests by our twenties. Heck, I was an athiest by age sixteen. Which,
considering we went to church every Sunday and even went to a C of E school
suggets that someone hadn't figured out the difference between teaching doctrine
and sharing faith.
Anyway, I knew all the tunes and most of the words. I'm a singer and a filker.
I never forget a song once I've learned it. I enjoy singing and the best hymns
have some really good tunes.
Rosalie had chosen pretty upbeat hymns, but I found I was crying through them
and the words sometimes choked in my throat. When you don't believe in
heaven/eternal life, it's hard to sing about it. The hymns wwere: 'Now thank we
all our God', 'The Lord's my shepherd' sung to Crimmond (I wonder if Rosalie
knew it was her grandmother's favourite), 'Abide with me' and 'Thine be the
Glory' (my mind associates that last one with the Proms).
I found 'Abide with me' was the easiest to cope with. Somehow, asking for God's
presence and comfort sits easier with me than promises of life in heaven. I
guess mental love works better for me than promises of pearly gates.
My father did the tribute. He did a pretty good job overall. I guess the bit
that will stick in most people's memory is that Rosalie and David originally got
together over ten years ago. He bought an engagement ring, but never actually
offered it to her. She eventually became so frustated by him not proposing that
they broke up. She never knew about the ring.
Eventually, she married another man in a relationship that didn't work out at
all and rapidly led to divorce.
Years later, life brought Rosalie and David together again and this time they
stayed together. Ironically, her divorce had soured Rosalie against the whole
idea of marriage. They had two children and were perfectly happy as partners,
but when they knew she was dying...
David gave her the ring that he'd kept all the years they had been apart. As
you'll know from my entries around 14 July, they were married in the hospice.
They were to be married for just 24 days.
With a gift for the memorable, Rosalie had selected her music to be carried out
of the church to. I wonder how many people have chosen the Hallelujah Chorus!
Not a foot was shuffled. Everyone stayed standing in their seats until the music
finished.
After that, the close family went to the crematorium. We got there first and
got in dry, just before the heavens open. It was a truely torrential downpour.
Kelvin remarked that it reminded him of Sidmouth. (A few years ago, Sidmouth
Folk Festival had the wettest week ever seen. The fields turned to mud, campers
at the bottom of the field were relocated to church halls and the ceilidh in the
ford was cancelled due to ten feet of water...)
Inexplicibly cheered by this memory, we dropped into 'I'm sorry I haven't a
clue' mode and proceded to think of songs that would be appreciated by an
audience of funeral directors and crematorium staff. We started with 'Great
balls of fire' and continued with songs that killed as many characters as
possible. I think Roz would have found it funny as well.
The short service in the crematorium passed right over my head. I'd been
through it all in the church and just zoned out. I wish it was possible to have
services without coffins. I simply couldn't connect the coffin with my sister.
Whatever was in there, it wasn't her. She was a living breathing person; the
shell left behind was irrelevent. (I believe she donated her corneas. I'm glad
someone was able to benefit.)
Drove back to the church hall where everyone was gathered. Swopped ideas on how
we'd like to be buried while we travelled. My family seem to be mainly in
favour of woodland burial (there's a firm near us that does this) and to be
buried in something ultra-cheap and biodegradable. Do it dirt cheap. No fancy
black cars, no pall bearers in penguin suits.
If they can't rustle up enough friends to carry me, then Kelvin kindly offered
to push me along in a wheelbarrow. I accepted.
I also decided (assuming that I had advance warning) to pre-record part of my
own funeral service. Evil grin - I can make everyone sit through me singing my
favourite songs.
We also decided that a ceilidh after the funeral would be perfect, preferably
with real ale. Don't drink much myself, but most of my friends seem to be real
ale fans.
Anyway, we went back to the church hall to one of the best buffets I've had in a
long time. David's parents had asked the church committee if they could do
anything and one of them really came up trumps.
I talked to loads of really nice people, managed to mix up two of my own
cousins (I only see them at weddings and funerals as they live so far away),
shed the occasional tear, got to know David's family a little better (they're
very nice people) and was generally glad that I'd gone.
I'm hoping to see Gillian (Rosalie's twin) before too long. We're going to do
some more work on Rosalie's memory book.
It'll be a while yet before I'm over it all. Odd things set me off - listened
to a Seekers CD and found myself crying at one of the songs ('How it breaks my
heart to leave you, now the carnival is gone')
Still, let's be positive. Discworld this weekend. If there was ever a
convention at a time when I needed cheering up... I think it should help.
Fandom can be a lifeline at times like these.
to write it again, mainly so that I have a record if I need to revisit this day
myself.
The funeral was a mixture of ups and downs, tears and occasional laughter.
We (Richard and myself and our sons Kelvin and Henry) travelled via Staples so I
could copy a couple of pages from my photo album. I have very few photos as I
stopped taking many about the time my shoulder went bad (I can't annotate the
pages easily), but I did have a couple of Rosalie that I wanted to hand over to
go in her memory book for the children.
Staples had surprisingly reasonable prices and were very quick to boot.
We just made it to Reading by 2.15. The pub where we'd stopped for lunch had
just changed hands and was rather disorganised as a result. However, we made it
to St Andrews in time.
It reminded me of a scene from HMS Pinafore. "His sisters and his cousins which
he reckons up by dozens, his sisters and his cousins and his aunts" Rosalie had
a lot of relatives and even more friends. Word of mouth had spread very
effectively and the church must have had around 200 people.
As far as family went, there were three sisters (Canadian brother could not
afford both wedding and funeral and wisely chose the wedding), two nephews and
two neices on that side of the family (Canadian neice not there for obvious
reasons), then a couple more nephews on her husband's side. Rosalie had six
cousins and I think five of them were there, along with their spouses and
children. Both her aunts, of course.
Friends came from everywhere. I was to talk to people who'd been part of her
ante-natal group (and who had all stayed close as their children grew and are
friends of David as well), people who knew her through scouting, caving, her
husband's family and friends and others I never had a chance to say hello to.
And there was Alastair, bless him. My first ever boyfriend when I was back at
school; he became like an adopted member of our family. I remember him and
Richard playing catch with Rosalie and Gillian, using them as the ball...
That's how young she was when he first knew her. Alastair's wife is like
another sister to me, his daughter feels like a neice. My family are the same
to him.
I was looking at the church candles, and was suddenly reminded of a recent LJ
posting. I remarked to Alastair that I'd just been reminded of something way
too indecent to mention just before a funeral, but I post the link here because
I'm sure he was curious... whotheheckami:
Help Neededwhotheheckami: Help Needed
Insofar as a funeral can be good, it was well done. I cried a lot, especially
during the hymns (and I do not cry easily). Rosalie had chosen all the hymns
herself (she wasn't a Christian six months ago - I don't know what her beliefs
were when she died, but I know she spent time talking to the hospice chaplain).
We were all brought up Church of England, but all of us bar another sister were
athiests by our twenties. Heck, I was an athiest by age sixteen. Which,
considering we went to church every Sunday and even went to a C of E school
suggets that someone hadn't figured out the difference between teaching doctrine
and sharing faith.
Anyway, I knew all the tunes and most of the words. I'm a singer and a filker.
I never forget a song once I've learned it. I enjoy singing and the best hymns
have some really good tunes.
Rosalie had chosen pretty upbeat hymns, but I found I was crying through them
and the words sometimes choked in my throat. When you don't believe in
heaven/eternal life, it's hard to sing about it. The hymns wwere: 'Now thank we
all our God', 'The Lord's my shepherd' sung to Crimmond (I wonder if Rosalie
knew it was her grandmother's favourite), 'Abide with me' and 'Thine be the
Glory' (my mind associates that last one with the Proms).
I found 'Abide with me' was the easiest to cope with. Somehow, asking for God's
presence and comfort sits easier with me than promises of life in heaven. I
guess mental love works better for me than promises of pearly gates.
My father did the tribute. He did a pretty good job overall. I guess the bit
that will stick in most people's memory is that Rosalie and David originally got
together over ten years ago. He bought an engagement ring, but never actually
offered it to her. She eventually became so frustated by him not proposing that
they broke up. She never knew about the ring.
Eventually, she married another man in a relationship that didn't work out at
all and rapidly led to divorce.
Years later, life brought Rosalie and David together again and this time they
stayed together. Ironically, her divorce had soured Rosalie against the whole
idea of marriage. They had two children and were perfectly happy as partners,
but when they knew she was dying...
David gave her the ring that he'd kept all the years they had been apart. As
you'll know from my entries around 14 July, they were married in the hospice.
They were to be married for just 24 days.
With a gift for the memorable, Rosalie had selected her music to be carried out
of the church to. I wonder how many people have chosen the Hallelujah Chorus!
Not a foot was shuffled. Everyone stayed standing in their seats until the music
finished.
After that, the close family went to the crematorium. We got there first and
got in dry, just before the heavens open. It was a truely torrential downpour.
Kelvin remarked that it reminded him of Sidmouth. (A few years ago, Sidmouth
Folk Festival had the wettest week ever seen. The fields turned to mud, campers
at the bottom of the field were relocated to church halls and the ceilidh in the
ford was cancelled due to ten feet of water...)
Inexplicibly cheered by this memory, we dropped into 'I'm sorry I haven't a
clue' mode and proceded to think of songs that would be appreciated by an
audience of funeral directors and crematorium staff. We started with 'Great
balls of fire' and continued with songs that killed as many characters as
possible. I think Roz would have found it funny as well.
The short service in the crematorium passed right over my head. I'd been
through it all in the church and just zoned out. I wish it was possible to have
services without coffins. I simply couldn't connect the coffin with my sister.
Whatever was in there, it wasn't her. She was a living breathing person; the
shell left behind was irrelevent. (I believe she donated her corneas. I'm glad
someone was able to benefit.)
Drove back to the church hall where everyone was gathered. Swopped ideas on how
we'd like to be buried while we travelled. My family seem to be mainly in
favour of woodland burial (there's a firm near us that does this) and to be
buried in something ultra-cheap and biodegradable. Do it dirt cheap. No fancy
black cars, no pall bearers in penguin suits.
If they can't rustle up enough friends to carry me, then Kelvin kindly offered
to push me along in a wheelbarrow. I accepted.
I also decided (assuming that I had advance warning) to pre-record part of my
own funeral service. Evil grin - I can make everyone sit through me singing my
favourite songs.
We also decided that a ceilidh after the funeral would be perfect, preferably
with real ale. Don't drink much myself, but most of my friends seem to be real
ale fans.
Anyway, we went back to the church hall to one of the best buffets I've had in a
long time. David's parents had asked the church committee if they could do
anything and one of them really came up trumps.
I talked to loads of really nice people, managed to mix up two of my own
cousins (I only see them at weddings and funerals as they live so far away),
shed the occasional tear, got to know David's family a little better (they're
very nice people) and was generally glad that I'd gone.
I'm hoping to see Gillian (Rosalie's twin) before too long. We're going to do
some more work on Rosalie's memory book.
It'll be a while yet before I'm over it all. Odd things set me off - listened
to a Seekers CD and found myself crying at one of the songs ('How it breaks my
heart to leave you, now the carnival is gone')
Still, let's be positive. Discworld this weekend. If there was ever a
convention at a time when I needed cheering up... I think it should help.
Fandom can be a lifeline at times like these.