I’ve been to a funeral today.
It was for a close family member, made all the more nerve-wracking by the fact that I’d helped organize it so I was worried something could go wrong.
I needn’t have worried – the funeral directors were brilliant, the sun shone, the chapel at the Crematorium was packed, and I think my Uncle would have approved.
I’m not sure that us leaving to the strains of the ‘Horse of the Year Show’ theme tune was the best call (not one of my decisions, thankfully), but it did make me smile as my Uncle loved horses.
The only slight hitches that happened were that we got held up in traffic on the way (we didn’t have funeral cars) and then I forgot which chapel we were going to – despite the fact I’d written the obituary for the local paper!
Luckily there’s only a choice of two and the first one we went to was empty, so we quickly found the right one just before the hearse arrived.
As a chief mourner it’s not a good look to be late, so I was glad I made it just in time.
Nearly being late today reminded me of what happened at a funeral I went to of a family friend not that long ago.
The service was due to start at 10.30, and the village Chapel was packed with mourners.
It got to 10.45, and still no sign of the coffin. Finally at nearly 11 o’clock the funeral party arrived.
It transpired that there was a delivery van blocking the only narrow roadway in, and it was unloading, so the hearse couldn’t arrive until they moved on.
So our dear family friend was actually late for her own funeral, which, thankfully, she would have found very funny.