After the food had been prepared, we hoovered and mopped and made sure the cloakroom was clean. I had realised that not many people would be coming back to the house, as people had contacted me to say they were ill and my Dad's brother, David, was flying back from a holiday.
We moved Sophie's car right up the drive and parked the VW across the road, so Mike could park his car when he arrived. I had already let people know on our residents' Facebook page that we were holding the wake at home, and our neighbours had been kind and understanding, with some even offering their own driveways if we needed them.
Before getting ready, we turned on the heating in the house and put a heater in the conservatory to warm up the space. I felt very nervous the whole time I was getting ready, and it almost felt like a surreal experience.
Keith took Sophie and me to the care home at 12.30pm, and we made sure Mum looked nice. We took her down to reception and chatted to Anna, one of the senior carers, before the limousine arrived. Lloyd was driving, and he even had a wheelchair in the back of the huge car that we could use.
I'd told Anna that a couple of the carers could accompany us in the car, but nobody did, so it was just Mum, Sophie and me. Mike had arrived at home just before we left, and he went in the VW with Keith. We needed a lift back to the house afterwards!
It wasn't a long journey to Kettering Crematorium, and we had booked the Albert Munn Chapel for 1:30 p.m. A small crowd waited for us outside the entrance, and we helped Mum out of the car and into the wheelchair. We went in first and sat right at the front on the right-hand side while everyone followed us in.
I started to feel very emotional, especially when the coffin was carried in, to the music of Simply Red's Holding Back The Years. I didn't really take in the beautiful flower arrangement on top of the coffin, which was shaped like a plane. Kerry, the celebrant, asked us to stand while the coffin was carried in, and then we sat while she conducted the lovely service.
I couldn't help shedding tears, but my Mum remained impassive throughout. I honestly don't think she has taken it in yet. My favourite part was when a montage of photographs was shown on a television screen to Chris Rea's On The Beach, a song my Dad loved. The photos were perfect and summed up his life.
I had included two pieces of writing in the Order of Service - Shakespeare's Sonnet 73, and a beautiful piece of Buddhist prose from Peter Matthiessen's novel, The Snow Leopard. I wanted to use the Buddhist writing when my Grandad died in 1987, and thought it was fitting for my Dad:
"Grieve not for me, but mourn for those who stay behind, bound by longings to which the fruit is sorrow
For what confidence have we in life when death is ever at hand?
Even were I to return to my kindred by reason of affection, yet we should be divided in the end by death.
The meeting and parting of living things is as when clouds, having come together, drift apart again, or as when the leaves are parted from the trees.
There is nothing we may call our own in a union that is but a dream..."
I read the novel when I was in Nepal and thought it was beautiful.
At the end, we were invited to leave by Lloyd and walked out to The Pet Shop Boys and Always On My Mind. We hugged our family and friends and thanked them for coming, and then Keith fetched the car around so we could go home.
We all arrived together, and I was thankful that there were just a few of us - my cousins, Beverley and Kim and their spouses, my Aunt Joyce and her son Tony (also my cousin), Chris, a lovely woman who used to work for us in the soft play business, us four, and my Mum. A few more people had been to the funeral: Sarah, a friend and former neighbour, and Frank, a man my Dad had worked with years ago. Another man was there whom I didn't recognise, but nobody from the flying club, which was disappointing. We had placed notices in the two local papers, so I was hoping for a few more people, but as it's the season of colds and flu, it wasn't surprising.
The wake was lovely, and there was a great atmosphere as we ate and drank. The food was lovely, and there wasn't too much left afterwards, which was a relief! Nobody drank the red wine, so that was mine and Sophie's reward for our hard work!
People started to leave at about 4pm, as my family had long journeys to make to get home. Sophie and I took Mum back, and one of the carers met us in reception to take her back to the room. I heaved a huge sigh of relief, and Sophie and I returned home to clear up, wash dishes and do the porridges for our breakfast at work tomorrow. Life goes on!
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