I woke up feeling so sick today. Its bad enough that I've been battling a cold all week but I totally lost my voice this morning so gave my speech to my uncle G to read - He took it home with him, I'll reprint it here when I get it back.
Anyway, I got up and sat around for a bit, trying to joke with Mum who'd been up since 4am and allready thrown up with nerves.
Then around half eight people started to arrive, my cousin and Nanny and Granddad and then E and her family and then everyone - and people were in suits! Dad didnt want suits! I felt so over dressed in my best jeans and new trainers! Lol!
And then the hearse arrived, and Dad was in the coffin, but like you said Babs it was all so surreal and there was chaos trying to figure out who was getting in who's car and who's cab (Dad being an ex-london Cabbie, Mum wanted us to all go in them rather than funeral cars)
and we ended up with me Nan and Granddad in with us, which threw Mum rather but thats just how our family works - chaos always!
And then we followed the hearse and I couldn't look at it, instead I thought about how we'd sit at the top of Shooters Hill road in the Metro and he'd sing his daft songs.
At the crem, Mum started to get upset and so I linked arms with her and sat on one side and The Brat on the other and he completely broke down at the service and sobbed, where as Mum cried and then sang softly to some of the words to her song.
And my Dad was in that coffin and yet its so strange cos yes I get upset and I have tears prick my eyes (much like now) but I can't let them go, I can't cry and sob like they do and I haven't yet. (Isn't grief a funny thing?)
and (too many "Ands" in this post) then he went and it was hard to connect my Dad to the one in that box and he went behind the curtain and we sang "Always Look On The Bright Side of Life." Just as he had wanted which got some giggles which Dad would have liked.
Only the Bitch Sisters (His - the ones that helped kill Granddad - remember? And robbed him and Great-granddad blind and who Nan is too silly to see otherwise - oh and I have a huge lot of shit to write about that about that last confused, mentally ill month of his life)
commented about how "that wasn't Dad and how it was a daft song to play"
I'm glad I didn't hear it and those that did chose not to act on it or repeat it to Mum until later cos if either of us had heard they'd have got a gobful about how little then actually knew, cared or respected their brother and I'd have twatted them. (In fact I am seriously considering finding out what to do to grass them up for benefit fraud but thats different stories and I'm neither a grass or that petty)
The funeral director (lovely guy) suggested taking a rose out of the only wreath (ours) and drying it as a memento so I plucked the biggest and best one and popped it down my top with only the head showing (Dad would have found that funny - or he'd be attempting that dance [the tango - with the rose in your mouth] with it)
And we went to the pub, Mum and The Brat in control of themselves and we had a great time, Dad would have loved it, all his mates, friends and family (well the ones that actually cared and mattered there) and thats all that matters really, everyone got a chance to say goodbye to him and have a good time as well!