The End of the End

The day of Dad's funeral.

I kept unbelievably calm all morning. We were even all ready in good time. The funeral party was to leave from Lorraine's house as it was a better venue than mums for people gathering and cars parking etc. The hearse was due at 10.30-ish....

When it came I got upset. I knew I would. Had a little cry and then walked round to admire the beautiful flowers that had been placed on and around the coffin. Before long, we were all in the cars and heading to the Crematorium. I talked nonsense all the way there (having checked with mum that it was ok for us to chat and giggle).

As we drew up to the little chapel in the crem, I was shocked at the number of people there - and immediately got upset again. All those people there, just for Dad. How lovely. I couldn't look at anybody as I got out of the car, and so we busied ourselves with organising our little procession for behind the coffin. Roy, Joseph, Colin and Paul were carrying Dad in. We walked in to Mario Lanza singing "I'll Walk with God". It all seemed a little surreal. We sat down and people piled in behind us - it was standing room only as the little chapel only seats 60, and there must have been more than that attending.

Mark, the methodist minister, began the service, which was lovely. I mainly kept myself composed and I could hear crying and sniffling going on behind me. Paul (Lorraine's husband) did a fantastic job of reading the eulogy - not easy in front of 70-odd people!

As the middle song played (Paul McCartney, End of the End) Emily took forward a single white rose to place on Dad's coffin. That started Lorraine off crying, which in turn set me off! But we were ok. As the service ended, they played I'll Be Seeing You. Now bearing in mind that I have ALWAYS cried when I hear this song, I think I did pretty well not to break down completely at this point! Mum wanted to go to the coffin and I asked Neil to go with her. I didn't want to go. I felt that I had said my goodbyes to Dad already. Mum then said she wanted to leave... "let's get out of here" were her actual words, and so we left the chapel.

Outside (miraculously it had stayed dry) we got chance to greet a few of the people who'd come along, and to look properly at the lovely flowers, before being asked to get back into the cars to go to the reception. We arrived at the Victoria pub just before 12.

The pub was a great venue - they'd done a wonderful spread of hot and cold food for us, and had organised trays of drinks for people on arrival. Everybody was well looked after! I sat a while with Trish and her parents (my best pal) and then tried to mingle a bit. People started to leave just after 3, and by 5pm, just a hard core of family remained. We stayed until just after 6... it had been a day of catching up with many people - family, friends, old neighbours - and it's pretty hard to fit in years worth of news and information into 10 minute chats!!!

We'd had some little "memory cards" printed up for people to take away and remember Dad with. They had pictures of him (the two of him as an adult that I've put on the "In loving memory post") and a verse:

He is Gone
You can shed tears that he is gone,
Or you can smile because he lived,
You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared,
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on,
You can cry and close your mind be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what he would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

On the back of the card, we put a personal thank you to everybody who supported us. And so, I want to repeat those thoughts here. THANK YOU to everybody reading this who has supported me and offered prayers and wishes for Dad and our family over the last five months. I cannot ever explain to you in words how much it has meant to me. I have been so blessed to have you all on my side.

Back at mums, we were tired. Roy went for a sleep and Mum and I chatted and watched TV. Roy got up and we snacked on stuff from the fridge. I think we were all in bed by 10.30pm! Such a calm day - considering what had taken place.

We had collected donations to Pancreatic Cancer UK in lieu of flowers from people outside the family who wished to do something. We already have £300 and I believe that there is more to come yet. Wonderful!

Karen, my good friend from Evesham, asked me today if I had been glad to have known that Dad was dying, as opposed to him drop dead suddenly. She was curious as to if I felt that in some ways it was a better way. Funny she asked, as I'd been pondering on this myself. Yes - in many ways it is an enormous privilege to be part of the final journey with a loved one. It is very special to be able to tell that person goodbye and share with them how much they have meant to you in your life. But it is also very tough to do all of this, with the underlying knowledge that "I'm watching you die". The awfulness of that can be a little overwhelming at times. All that said, on balance, I think it is a very precious thing to be able to do... provided of course that the person's suffering is not too great. How would I have felt if Dad had dropped down dead in January? I don't know, but I think I'd have struggled a lot with it, especially given that I didn't usually see Dad on a day to day or week to week basis. I think I'd have felt a lot more guilt and pain. Ah well, I have rambled a bit there, but it is food for thought.

I forgot to say that on the evening Dad died, Roy was at home alone and after I phoned him with the news, he was upset and went to bed early. He left the curtains open and watched a star appearing at the same time as the sun set. He said that the star gradually disappeared beyond the roof of a house, and just before it vanished completely it glowed really bright. Roy felt that this was Dad's way of saying goodnight to him. :-)