Posted on

I went to a funeral last week.  I went because I knew his wife and wanted to support her but I’d met him only once.  As I approached the crematorium there was queue to get in, a queue for the carpark, a queue for the crematoriun itself.  Looking around it was astonishing to see that every generation was represented, from a babe in arms to a very elderly gent in an official jacket who stood proud to bid another old friend farewell.

As we filed inside there was music playing – Dolly Parton singing ‘Life is like a butterfly’ and as the music registered, smiles all round.  Which was it that he liked: or was it both?  It set the tone for the next hour: tributes were read, poetry recited and when a dignified grand-daughter paid tribute to her well-loved Grandad,  even the elderly gent in the official jacket wept openly.

I left straight afterwards and drove along the road to Cobham still humming.  I was honoured to take part in such a tribute, lucky to be aware that good people like that exist and are loved, and grateful to have been reminded of butterflies – fragile, transient but so lovely.  It would be a pity not to enjoy them while we can.

I still feel humbled.

This entry was posted in Blog. Bookmark the permalink.