I hate funerals

8th April 2011

I can honestly say I hate funerals although I have yet to meet anybody who does like them.  The first one I went to was my grandma’s (dad’s mother) in 1987 which was incredibly sad just on the grounds that there were only six of us that turned up.  There were my parents, my sister, me, a great aunt and her son.  My grandmother had been one of six children so I know there were quite a few nephews and nieces plus surviving siblings that could have turned.  Funerals being funerals it do completely without its moments.  The minister referred to my grandma as Irene. My mum, sister and I looked at each other and it was all we could do to not laugh out loudly.  Nobody called my grandma Irene – she was always known as Nina.  I had visions off her turning in her coffin.

My nanna died in 1993 which broke my heart as I loved her to bits.  She had been a friend as well as a beloved grandmother.  I remember the family following the coffin into the church and it being packed.  As we followed the coffin I realized how popular my nana had been.  I don’t remember much of the service but I do remember the wake afterwards.  Although it was a sad occasion it was one that was also filled with laughter.  My nanna had been a real character and she would have wanted us to remember the good memories.  The following day there was an immediate family service at the cemetery as my nanna’s ashes were buried with my granddad.

My mother in law died in 1999.  I remember that day very well with a service at the church she had attended for many years.  There was a short service at the crematorium afterwards.  Rick and I didn’t stay at the wake for very long afterwards.  A few days later we went over to the crematorium.  I have seen squirrels over there but never two together.  On this day I saw two playing together and it was as if it was a sign that Rick’s mum and dad were together in heaven. Most people will think that’s a silly idea but it certainly cheered me up.

Right at this moment in time I don’t want to be at my mum’s funeral.  When my dad let me know when it is I asked if we could sleep on his floor the night before.  He refused as he will be having a houseful.  I was a bit hurt about putting other people before me as I am his daughter.  He then suggested we didn’t go as it’s too much trouble us getting there.  I told my dad I needed to be there so we would arrange something else.  Rick arranged for us to stay over at Chris and Peter’s.   This morning I rang my dad to let him know we would be picking up flowers on the way through.  He had assumed we would be meeting at the crematorium which nearly left me speechless.  My dad also said all the other flowers are being delivered to the house but that would have been an extra cost to us.  I suggested we took the flowers to the house but he turned really funny at that one.  Basically he wants the flowers to be delivered to the house and for us to go straight to the crematorium.  My dad can’t have it both ways.  I feel extremely hurt by that and don’t feel welcome at my own mother’s funeral.

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About Philippa

I am married to Rick and we live in a small town in County Durham. We have two dogs, a cat and two budgies. I am also an adoption survivor. In 1981 my son was born and I was then forced to surrender him. It took 23 years and reunion for my to find out that my son's adoption was legally known as a forced adoption and illegal but social workers got away with it because mothers didn't know their rights.
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