lizwilliams: (Default)
[personal profile] lizwilliams
T and I have spent the day in Yeovil, at our employee C's husband's funeral. He was 52. It was a brain tumour, but because C's husband knew he was on his way out, he had some time to plan his own funeral and he wanted...a particular song.

C said: 'Are you SURE?'

Yes, quite sure. So she braved telling her elderly in-laws, and they thought it was highly appropriate.

Thus, the service closed on the Eric Idle version of 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' ("worse things happen at sea, you know!" just as the curtains closed on the red footprints painted onto the end of the coffin). Because it was, after all, a celebration of the life of Brian.

It's the only time I've ever cried, cracked up, and whistled in a funeral parlour. Then we went to the wake and were greeted by a barmaid sporting two very black eyes. Yeovil: what a lovely town.

Brian, mate, go well, eh?

Date: 2006-02-02 10:01 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mt-yvr.livejournal.com
(raises a glass)

Go well, sir.

Date: 2006-02-02 10:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
Thank you. I know you've been there. Too often.

Date: 2006-02-02 10:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mt-yvr.livejournal.com
Keep thinking of the melancholy/bitter/funny song "I'm still here."

Flush velvet sometimes,
Sometimes just pretzels and beer,
But I'm here.
I've run the gamut.
A to Z.
Three cheers and dammit,
C'est la vie.
I got through all of last year
And I'm here.
Lord knows, at least I was there,
And I'm here!
Look who's here!
I'm still here!

(raises another glass)
And I've not gone thru any more than yourself, dear lady. Don't think I forget that.

Of course I don't get the cat puke you do. But still and all.

Date: 2006-02-02 11:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] klwilliams.livejournal.com
I'm sure she'd be happy to share her cat puke. Not a selfish bone in her body, our M.

Date: 2006-02-02 11:12 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mt-yvr.livejournal.com
Great. Now I've got images of her without any bones. Our Lady Of Blobs.

Greeeat. Like we needed that in my head.

:P

Date: 2006-02-02 11:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
Euuuw! Euuuew! Eeeeuw!

you can both have as much cat puke as you want.

But..thank you for the song.

Signed: Blob Girl

Date: 2006-02-02 11:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mt-yvr.livejournal.com
It get's worse, my second thought was "If she ever had... you know... 'work' done... do they float to the top when the bones vanish or do they just ooze about?"

I REALLY REALLY have to get a new mind. This one is giggling too much.

Date: 2006-02-02 12:52 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
Urgh! Not that I'm planning to get anything done. The grey can be dyed and as for Botox, suppose I WANT to fucking frown??

Date: 2006-02-02 01:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mt-yvr.livejournal.com
Life without frowning. It's... it's... just wrong.

How else am I supposed to scare the hell out of children?

Date: 2006-02-02 10:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fastfwd.livejournal.com
Well, I didn't know him, but just hearing about this makes me miss him. I'll pour some out for him tonight.

Date: 2006-02-02 10:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
Thank you!

Date: 2006-02-02 11:13 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kristine-smith.livejournal.com
Combination of grin and blurry screen virus here.

*raises a glass*

Date: 2006-02-02 11:19 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
Thank you. Pretty much the same at this end.

Date: 2006-02-02 11:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spytfire.livejournal.com
I'll raise my own glass to him tonight, and raise my glass to C, as well.

Date: 2006-02-02 12:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
Thank you. She's doing as well as one ever can, but I think it never really hits you until a while later once all the planning etc has dwindled.

Date: 2006-02-02 01:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mt-yvr.livejournal.com
Aftershocks. They happen at fairly regular intervals, regardless of our knowing it ahead of time or not.

I'm at 5 months. Six months I'm expecting a rather bad bit, then smooth. For the next six months. The first year is hard.

(shrug)

You spend time wondering if you're dwelling or processing - two different things. And then you wonder how, after a certain point, people stand listening to you.

The first rush of dealing with the details is a lovely (note the sarcasm) way of avoiding the emotional aspects of things.

It's when we stand or sit still for more than five minutes, still conscious, that it hits.

Date: 2006-02-02 03:58 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] spytfire.livejournal.com
It makes a lot of sense, actually.

You slow down for a moment, then bam.

Date: 2006-02-03 01:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
The first year is very hard. My dad remembers my aunt, who lost her husband when she was my age, suddenly saying to him about 14 months later 'I've just realised H has gone.' It takes ages for the shock to wear off even if you've been expecting it.

Profile

lizwilliams: (Default)
lizwilliams

February 2025

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
9101112131415
1617 1819202122
232425262728 

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 17th, 2025 07:48 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios