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Today was the funeral of my wife’s grandmother Joy, one of the two formidable matriarchs of our families who like my own grandma Doris is celebrated in the middle names of my daughter. She was a clever and slyly humorous lady and she stayed sharp and witty right to the end. She was like a grandmother to me too, so I am now a grand-orphan all over again. I am really going to miss her.
Funerals are never an enjoyable experience, but they become more discombobulating the more that you go to, because inevitably each new one reminds you of the others and you end up grieving not just for the recently departed but all those you have lost over the years. Or at least remembering them all, in an ever growing list which will only be wiped out and forgotten at your own funeral. It’s a nice thing in many ways, that the people who meant something to us are always there, but death, like birth is one of life’s more surreal moments. Strange that the most common of experiences are the ones that are hardest to process.
I only knew Joy for the last nine of her almost 93 years and often when someone reaches that kind of age there aren’t too many people left to mourn them, but there was a good turn out at the service and the wake and it was a good send off. Rather than being led by someone else who hadn’t known her, the family (Catie, her dad and her brother) chose to do a short speech each about Joy’s life and what she’d meant to them. It was simple, but affecting. Catie unsurprisingly became emotional and shed a few tears halfway through her section and Phoebe, who had been sitting quietly eating some dried fruit on the floor, saw her mum in distress and went to Catie’s bag and got Catie’s bottle of water out and carried it over to her. It was the most remarkable thing and of course melted everyone’s hearts. It’s hard to know what was going through Phoebe’s mind but she’s always had a surprising degree of empathy (given that I have attempted to teach her to hate all living things) and I think she just wanted to make her mum feel better. Luckily some of my personality has got through and as Phoebe returned to us and the congregation gave her a spontaneous round of applause I could see her looking at them and loving the attention. And then she went back with her own bottle of water in the hope of getting more applause. But the original action had been selfless, so she still wins on all accounts. My wife’s middle name is also Joy, so I don’t think there could be a better moment of celebration, nor example of how we continue on after our deaths. More importantly though my daughter stole the show, which as a performer is all that I care about.
I hope my daughter can live up to the women who gave her her middle names. Early signs are that she’s got a good shot at it.
Joining Ed Gamble on RHLSTP next Monday will be Caitlin Moran - that's got to be worth coming to see live. Details are here.
RHLSTP with Hans Teeuwen is now up in the normal places.
