It's a long one....
As most of you know, my grandfather passed away in September. This week (after much organising on the part of my mother and her siblings) we held the memorial service. I feel i should warn you in advance that this blog is mostly for my memory, as i don't want to forget anything, and thus will be full of all the details i want to remember, rather than necessarily interesting details. However i hope someone will read it and gain an understanding of what great people my grandparents were and quite how proud i am to be part of their family.
So on Thursday morning we drove up to Aberdeen, worrying slightly because there had been reports of snow and traffic. I only nearly strangled my brother on the way up and by the time we got there, we were almost friends. And there was no snow and no traffic so we arrived in plenty of time for lunch. My aunt and uncle weren't quite so lucky though - their tyre exploded just by kinross, the one of the nuts on the wheel weren't working properly so they couldn't get it off and thus had to wait for the AA with their magic tools. And then of course they were on a silly spare wheel and so could only drive at 50 miles an hour. But they got there. Just.
When we arrived the house was full of people, cousins i hadn't seen in ages, my mum's cousins, aunts, uncles, my grandfather's cousins, and family friends. It was wonderful to see them all, in particular the american side of the family. And it was so lovely to have that big old house full of people again and being used as it should. We ate, we chatted, we put our smart clothes on and chatted some more. And then we piled into a variety of cars (5 or 6 of them, fully loaded, i think) and made our way to the chapel.
The service was held at the University of Aberdeen Chapel, which is quite simply a gorgeous building.
It’s also where we held my grandmother Brucie’s memorial service, a whole ten years ago, as both she and grandpa had ties to the university. It felt right to be holding his memorial service there too.
The service itself had a very different atmosphere from the small family funeral we held only a few weeks ago. Unlike the glorious sunshine we had at the crematorium, it pelted down with rain and it was freezing cold. But in many ways it was quite apt as Grandpa was never a man to give up, he always went on and got on with life, no matter what. We reckon that there were around a hundred people there, which considering he outlived many of his friends and family and the rest are scattered across the globe, we feel was a good turn out. Certainly people travelled from as far away as chicago and moscow to come to the service. We included small cards in the order of service for people to fill in, so we can keep a record of who was there.
It wasn’t necessarily a happy affair, but it was clear from the word go that it was a celebration. Two ministers performed the service, the university minister - a lovely young american girl (from michigan i think) and the minister from grandpa’s local church - a huge (tall not fat), jolly texan who had also performed the ceremony at the crematorium. After the opening words, we sang ‘Guide me, O thou great Jehovah’ at which point i really started to feel the emotion of the event. Anyone who knows me, will know that i am not a religious person, however i do love the music associated with the church and the emotions and sense of togetherness that singing hymns provides. Readings were done by my american uncle, my oldest cousin and one of the wee-est cousins -he’s only 13, but read beautifully. (Readings were Psalm 121, Matthew 5.13 - 16 and Psalm 15 incase anyone’s interested.)
The rest of the service included the hymns ‘Who would true valour see’ and ‘Be thou my vision’ and a wonderful tribute to my grandfather and all the amazing things he’d accomplished. Read by my mother and edinburgh uncle, it not only spoke of his work life and all the wonderful things he’s done but included anecdotes and memories from friends and family which added a really moving personal touch to it. We heard how he hid his 21st birthday presents down a well in northern france (to prevent the germans from getting them(!)) and how he used to go out in all weathers to hill walk and play golf. How he and my grandmother made everyone feel so welcome both in Aberdeen and in the cottage in Braemar, and how he used to disappear at inconvenient times up to the garage at the back of the garden or to tend his vegetable patch.
Two stories really stick in my mind though. The first is how he was called up at work, one friday afternoon around 5pm. At the other end of the phone, was a multinational company who had recently become involved in scottish oil. They had suddenly realised that scottish law is different to english and thus they needed a scottish lawyer asap. My grandfather was the only lawyer they found at his desk. They asked him to fly down to london the next day and he agreed, without hesitation. Because of that, the small company he was with built up a great reputation and greatly increased it’s client base.
The second is about him teaching my uncle to build a small stone wall. He was sat on a bench outside the house, directing my uncle. During the course of this, he was heard to say ‘Bend over and pick up the stones properly and put your back into it boy.’ He was 86 and my uncle was 55!
After this tribute, i played an arrangement of a bagpipe tune on my flute. The piece in question is called The Heroes of St Valery. During the WWII, my grandfather was a Captain in the Royal Signals with the 51st Highlanders. The 51st were one of those who were not evacuated at Dunkirk but were left behind (more history at - http://www.laird.org.uk/Scots/51st_Division_at_St_Valery.htm). Ten thousand of them were captured - my grandfather one of them. The tune celebrates their bravery during this time.
With the ceremony finished, we moved next door for tea, alcohol and lots of cake and chat. I discovered that amongst the many people there was Steve Robertson (of Scotland the What? fame) who complimented me on my flute playing and told me how my grandparents were hugely influential in him moving to the village he’s in now. Also there was a gentleman who was in the 51st with my grandfather. He’s 92 now, but still strolls around quite happily as if he wasn’t a day over 70. A truly remarkable man. And i have to say that it made my day when he said that my flute playing and arrangement of the piece had really moved him and had really added to the service.
Overall, it was a wonderful day. I heard so many new stories about my grandparents and spent the whole day laughing and reminiscing. It’s how these things should be i think.
On Friday we all drove out together to Braemar to scatter my grandparents ashes. Poor Brucie had been sitting in a cupboard for ten years, but in the end, i think it was right that they ended up together. We drove out to a river which my grandmother visited as a child and never stopped returning to. It has therefore been a much loved place by the whole family for decades. I certainly have memories of three generations of us all swimming in the river. Anyway, we scattered their ashes there, the whole family gathered by the river bank. It was moving, and upsetting, but it definitely felt right.
All of us descended on a tiny wee cafe in Braemar afterwards and gossiped, and ate. I did feel sorry for the only two members of staff in the cafe, who had been expecting maybe one or two tables over lunch time, and instead got us lot, who included demanding (but charming) americans and rowdy children! I very much didn’t want to leave Braemar after that though. It is a second home for me and always hard to leave. But on that particular day, it was so beautiful, with the sun shining on the snow and everyone there, that it was a million times harder than usual. A full moon appeared from behind the hill in the back garden just as we were leaving and it was stunning. It’s just a place of peace and happiness, no matter what’s going on in the world and life. Even thinking about it now, is making ache with wanting to be there and making me well up. I really do miss it when i’m not there.
Whilst there, we visited the cottage and checked on Brucie's Tree. It really was looking stunning in the sunlight with the snow.
I have so much more i want to say about Brucie, about Grandpa, about the house, and about those couple of days. But i have no time to write it, so it’ll have to wait for the next entry.
Once again, RIP Brucie and Grandpa. I’m glad you’re together now.
So on Thursday morning we drove up to Aberdeen, worrying slightly because there had been reports of snow and traffic. I only nearly strangled my brother on the way up and by the time we got there, we were almost friends. And there was no snow and no traffic so we arrived in plenty of time for lunch. My aunt and uncle weren't quite so lucky though - their tyre exploded just by kinross, the one of the nuts on the wheel weren't working properly so they couldn't get it off and thus had to wait for the AA with their magic tools. And then of course they were on a silly spare wheel and so could only drive at 50 miles an hour. But they got there. Just.
When we arrived the house was full of people, cousins i hadn't seen in ages, my mum's cousins, aunts, uncles, my grandfather's cousins, and family friends. It was wonderful to see them all, in particular the american side of the family. And it was so lovely to have that big old house full of people again and being used as it should. We ate, we chatted, we put our smart clothes on and chatted some more. And then we piled into a variety of cars (5 or 6 of them, fully loaded, i think) and made our way to the chapel.
The service was held at the University of Aberdeen Chapel, which is quite simply a gorgeous building.
It’s also where we held my grandmother Brucie’s memorial service, a whole ten years ago, as both she and grandpa had ties to the university. It felt right to be holding his memorial service there too.
The service itself had a very different atmosphere from the small family funeral we held only a few weeks ago. Unlike the glorious sunshine we had at the crematorium, it pelted down with rain and it was freezing cold. But in many ways it was quite apt as Grandpa was never a man to give up, he always went on and got on with life, no matter what. We reckon that there were around a hundred people there, which considering he outlived many of his friends and family and the rest are scattered across the globe, we feel was a good turn out. Certainly people travelled from as far away as chicago and moscow to come to the service. We included small cards in the order of service for people to fill in, so we can keep a record of who was there.
It wasn’t necessarily a happy affair, but it was clear from the word go that it was a celebration. Two ministers performed the service, the university minister - a lovely young american girl (from michigan i think) and the minister from grandpa’s local church - a huge (tall not fat), jolly texan who had also performed the ceremony at the crematorium. After the opening words, we sang ‘Guide me, O thou great Jehovah’ at which point i really started to feel the emotion of the event. Anyone who knows me, will know that i am not a religious person, however i do love the music associated with the church and the emotions and sense of togetherness that singing hymns provides. Readings were done by my american uncle, my oldest cousin and one of the wee-est cousins -he’s only 13, but read beautifully. (Readings were Psalm 121, Matthew 5.13 - 16 and Psalm 15 incase anyone’s interested.)
The rest of the service included the hymns ‘Who would true valour see’ and ‘Be thou my vision’ and a wonderful tribute to my grandfather and all the amazing things he’d accomplished. Read by my mother and edinburgh uncle, it not only spoke of his work life and all the wonderful things he’s done but included anecdotes and memories from friends and family which added a really moving personal touch to it. We heard how he hid his 21st birthday presents down a well in northern france (to prevent the germans from getting them(!)) and how he used to go out in all weathers to hill walk and play golf. How he and my grandmother made everyone feel so welcome both in Aberdeen and in the cottage in Braemar, and how he used to disappear at inconvenient times up to the garage at the back of the garden or to tend his vegetable patch.
Two stories really stick in my mind though. The first is how he was called up at work, one friday afternoon around 5pm. At the other end of the phone, was a multinational company who had recently become involved in scottish oil. They had suddenly realised that scottish law is different to english and thus they needed a scottish lawyer asap. My grandfather was the only lawyer they found at his desk. They asked him to fly down to london the next day and he agreed, without hesitation. Because of that, the small company he was with built up a great reputation and greatly increased it’s client base.
The second is about him teaching my uncle to build a small stone wall. He was sat on a bench outside the house, directing my uncle. During the course of this, he was heard to say ‘Bend over and pick up the stones properly and put your back into it boy.’ He was 86 and my uncle was 55!
After this tribute, i played an arrangement of a bagpipe tune on my flute. The piece in question is called The Heroes of St Valery. During the WWII, my grandfather was a Captain in the Royal Signals with the 51st Highlanders. The 51st were one of those who were not evacuated at Dunkirk but were left behind (more history at - http://www.laird.org.uk/Scots/51st_Division_at_St_Valery.htm). Ten thousand of them were captured - my grandfather one of them. The tune celebrates their bravery during this time.
With the ceremony finished, we moved next door for tea, alcohol and lots of cake and chat. I discovered that amongst the many people there was Steve Robertson (of Scotland the What? fame) who complimented me on my flute playing and told me how my grandparents were hugely influential in him moving to the village he’s in now. Also there was a gentleman who was in the 51st with my grandfather. He’s 92 now, but still strolls around quite happily as if he wasn’t a day over 70. A truly remarkable man. And i have to say that it made my day when he said that my flute playing and arrangement of the piece had really moved him and had really added to the service.
Overall, it was a wonderful day. I heard so many new stories about my grandparents and spent the whole day laughing and reminiscing. It’s how these things should be i think.
On Friday we all drove out together to Braemar to scatter my grandparents ashes. Poor Brucie had been sitting in a cupboard for ten years, but in the end, i think it was right that they ended up together. We drove out to a river which my grandmother visited as a child and never stopped returning to. It has therefore been a much loved place by the whole family for decades. I certainly have memories of three generations of us all swimming in the river. Anyway, we scattered their ashes there, the whole family gathered by the river bank. It was moving, and upsetting, but it definitely felt right.
All of us descended on a tiny wee cafe in Braemar afterwards and gossiped, and ate. I did feel sorry for the only two members of staff in the cafe, who had been expecting maybe one or two tables over lunch time, and instead got us lot, who included demanding (but charming) americans and rowdy children! I very much didn’t want to leave Braemar after that though. It is a second home for me and always hard to leave. But on that particular day, it was so beautiful, with the sun shining on the snow and everyone there, that it was a million times harder than usual. A full moon appeared from behind the hill in the back garden just as we were leaving and it was stunning. It’s just a place of peace and happiness, no matter what’s going on in the world and life. Even thinking about it now, is making ache with wanting to be there and making me well up. I really do miss it when i’m not there.
Whilst there, we visited the cottage and checked on Brucie's Tree. It really was looking stunning in the sunlight with the snow.
I have so much more i want to say about Brucie, about Grandpa, about the house, and about those couple of days. But i have no time to write it, so it’ll have to wait for the next entry.
Once again, RIP Brucie and Grandpa. I’m glad you’re together now.