The Funeral
The funeral was yesterday. I think my grandmother would have been proud. We all wore a sprig of heather, and a piece of her clan tartan (I don’t have a kilt, but if I did I would have worn it proudly). I do like the sound of bagpipes - it must be the Celt in me. The piper played well. It was beautiful, but haunting at the same time.
It was unlike any other funerals I have been to. It was far more traditional. My grandmother’s body was lying in state at her home before being taken to the church for the funeral service. We all gathered there before the service to say our good-byes before they closed the coffin. It was the first time I have seen a dead body, and the fact that it was my grandmother’s body lying there made it a very strange experience. A kind of sadness and peace rolled into one.
It was actually a double funeral. It is impossible to speak of my grandmother without talking of my grandfather too. When he died in 1986, a large part of her died with him. When my grandmother died, the family decided to bury my grandfather’s ashes with her. The funeral was about their love and their lives, rather than her death.
It was also the first funeral I have been to that was followed by a burial (all of the others have been cremations). As one of her grandsons, I was a pallbearer. It was an honour to say the least. During the service, my sister and my older cousins all spoke about grandma. I cried. Sadness, but also regret. I wish I could have known her better, especially before the death of my grandfather. I found myself crying again at the grave side, watching the others throw dirt on the coffin. I guess it all hit me then.
Despite the sadness, it was a wonderful day. We couldn’t have wished for better weather. It was sunny and warm, with only a slight breeze. A complete contrast to the weather before (or the weather since). Even the trees outside my grandmother’s place has gone in to blossom. I have the feeling my grandfather had something to do with all of that.
I am still a little sad. Yes, it is the end of an era (she was my last surviving grandparent), but I know that my grandparents are finally together now. Grandma and Grandad, wherever you are now, I love you.
It was unlike any other funerals I have been to. It was far more traditional. My grandmother’s body was lying in state at her home before being taken to the church for the funeral service. We all gathered there before the service to say our good-byes before they closed the coffin. It was the first time I have seen a dead body, and the fact that it was my grandmother’s body lying there made it a very strange experience. A kind of sadness and peace rolled into one.
It was actually a double funeral. It is impossible to speak of my grandmother without talking of my grandfather too. When he died in 1986, a large part of her died with him. When my grandmother died, the family decided to bury my grandfather’s ashes with her. The funeral was about their love and their lives, rather than her death.
It was also the first funeral I have been to that was followed by a burial (all of the others have been cremations). As one of her grandsons, I was a pallbearer. It was an honour to say the least. During the service, my sister and my older cousins all spoke about grandma. I cried. Sadness, but also regret. I wish I could have known her better, especially before the death of my grandfather. I found myself crying again at the grave side, watching the others throw dirt on the coffin. I guess it all hit me then.
Despite the sadness, it was a wonderful day. We couldn’t have wished for better weather. It was sunny and warm, with only a slight breeze. A complete contrast to the weather before (or the weather since). Even the trees outside my grandmother’s place has gone in to blossom. I have the feeling my grandfather had something to do with all of that.
I am still a little sad. Yes, it is the end of an era (she was my last surviving grandparent), but I know that my grandparents are finally together now. Grandma and Grandad, wherever you are now, I love you.