B's Funeral
Today was B's funeral. It was held at the same church that my grandmother and grandfather were buried at, Holy Jo's as my dad calls it, from the time he was an altar boy there (St Joseph's of Highgate to everyone else), using the same undertakers that we used for my grandparents funeral as well.
It was a good funeral. Not that any funeral is good, but it was well attended and there were lots of people. I was surprised by how many, but that's part of the tragedy of dying before time, 58 being seen as before a person's time now, especially someone as energetic as B was.
There was a mass followed by the service for the dead. My mum delivered the Eulogy and it was really well done, recalling B's younger days as a student in Poland, going over her life after she arrived in England, giving shoutouts to all her friend groups, and her family, plus finally dealing with her death. It contained just the right mix of fond personal anecdotes with general facts. Yes, a very good eulogy indeed.
We decamped to the cemetery. I hadn't been able to do much in the course of the funeral preparations or even for B's daughter A, my childhood friend. But here I could do one thing, so I brought the little Nissan and ferried people to the cemetery and then back to pub where we ate afterwards. This I did and it was much appreciated, because the weather was bucketing it down. My parents carried A and hubby, making their day a little easier too.
Afterwards, despite being a little bit tired and a bit out of it, I mingled and socialised and had a good time talking to various people I hadn't seen in a while. Lots of them were B's family, with A's friends as well as her husband's friends, but there was also some from my family and I got to see one of my cousins. I had moments of "I wonder whether we should be sliding into a party/social-do, me included", but I kinda thought about it and one of the things that B definitely was good at was being the heart and soul of any party, so it seemed fitting.
I wore the first dress I'd ever bought, which was good for "grieving but not family member", as it was not entirely black, but put on something B had loaned me, a black knitted floaty shawl. She'd lent it too me when she'd dragged me out shopping for female clothes in Enfield once during the mid part of my transition. She was like that. It seemed appropriate and, although my mum initially gave me grief over it, in the end, it worked. To be honest though, she's been a bit ropey and that's her way of coping.
It was a good funeral. Not that any funeral is good, but it was well attended and there were lots of people. I was surprised by how many, but that's part of the tragedy of dying before time, 58 being seen as before a person's time now, especially someone as energetic as B was.
There was a mass followed by the service for the dead. My mum delivered the Eulogy and it was really well done, recalling B's younger days as a student in Poland, going over her life after she arrived in England, giving shoutouts to all her friend groups, and her family, plus finally dealing with her death. It contained just the right mix of fond personal anecdotes with general facts. Yes, a very good eulogy indeed.
We decamped to the cemetery. I hadn't been able to do much in the course of the funeral preparations or even for B's daughter A, my childhood friend. But here I could do one thing, so I brought the little Nissan and ferried people to the cemetery and then back to pub where we ate afterwards. This I did and it was much appreciated, because the weather was bucketing it down. My parents carried A and hubby, making their day a little easier too.
Afterwards, despite being a little bit tired and a bit out of it, I mingled and socialised and had a good time talking to various people I hadn't seen in a while. Lots of them were B's family, with A's friends as well as her husband's friends, but there was also some from my family and I got to see one of my cousins. I had moments of "I wonder whether we should be sliding into a party/social-do, me included", but I kinda thought about it and one of the things that B definitely was good at was being the heart and soul of any party, so it seemed fitting.
I wore the first dress I'd ever bought, which was good for "grieving but not family member", as it was not entirely black, but put on something B had loaned me, a black knitted floaty shawl. She'd lent it too me when she'd dragged me out shopping for female clothes in Enfield once during the mid part of my transition. She was like that. It seemed appropriate and, although my mum initially gave me grief over it, in the end, it worked. To be honest though, she's been a bit ropey and that's her way of coping.