Funeral Games
Apr. 23rd, 2023 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
poliphilo My mother must have been one of the last people left standing who had actually witnessed the Battle of Britain. We were reading her diary for the war years- in preparation for her memorial service- and it's mostly rather dull- but there are days when she couldn't help but record something interesting, like the day a bomb landed in her front garden and blew out all the south facing windows; like seeing a German bomber (only she says "Hun") come falling out of the sky; like watching dogfights high up over her Kentish home....
Yesterday as we were greeting people at the church door a Spitfire flew over. Later, as we walked from the church to the garden of Remembrance it flew over again.
I was sitting in the pub afterwards with her former neighbours and Chris was saying how she and Herbie were at an air show when a Lancaster bomber went over and someone who was with them said what a comforting sound it was and Herbie, said "O, no it isn't!" He was a boy during the war- in Germany- and for him it meant he had to dive under the nearest hedge...
Most of the close family were able to make it- ten of them children. There were some racing friends, a few neighbours, a couple of carers who have turned into family friends and Matthew- also a family friend- who used to work in our garden and lop our trees. The only person of her generation or near it was John- who used to work (as a draughtsman, I think) in my father's engineering firm. He is very frail...
Ivy- her great granddaughter- who is ten, wore her old army jacket. It's a pretty good fit. My mother was a small woman....
Two of her grandsons poured her ashes into the grave.
Afterwards there was football and rushing about in the pub garden. I took a bunch of pictures for the family WhatsApp- and captioned them "funeral games".
Between the service and the knees-up I took a stroll back into the churchyard. My mother's ashes lie next to my father's- who, by a happy chance we didn't take into account when planning the event- would have been 102 yesterday. I took a moment alone with them. "See you upstairs," I said.
Yesterday as we were greeting people at the church door a Spitfire flew over. Later, as we walked from the church to the garden of Remembrance it flew over again.
I was sitting in the pub afterwards with her former neighbours and Chris was saying how she and Herbie were at an air show when a Lancaster bomber went over and someone who was with them said what a comforting sound it was and Herbie, said "O, no it isn't!" He was a boy during the war- in Germany- and for him it meant he had to dive under the nearest hedge...
Most of the close family were able to make it- ten of them children. There were some racing friends, a few neighbours, a couple of carers who have turned into family friends and Matthew- also a family friend- who used to work in our garden and lop our trees. The only person of her generation or near it was John- who used to work (as a draughtsman, I think) in my father's engineering firm. He is very frail...
Ivy- her great granddaughter- who is ten, wore her old army jacket. It's a pretty good fit. My mother was a small woman....
Two of her grandsons poured her ashes into the grave.
Afterwards there was football and rushing about in the pub garden. I took a bunch of pictures for the family WhatsApp- and captioned them "funeral games".
Between the service and the knees-up I took a stroll back into the churchyard. My mother's ashes lie next to my father's- who, by a happy chance we didn't take into account when planning the event- would have been 102 yesterday. I took a moment alone with them. "See you upstairs," I said.
