RIP: a funeral and an ankle

“Requiescat in Pace”. May she rest in peace. That is what is said not only when the body in lying in a grave but when it has been cremated, which was the case with my mother on 19^th June 2019. Perhaps scattered ashes can be regarded as doing the same.

After a life of nearly 104 years that included very few episodes of pain or illness, and without the awful semi-death of dementia that plagues so many people in their final years, the funeral arrangements had an uplifting atmosphere throughout. We chose excerpts from Bach’s Brandenburg concertos to begin and end the Crematorium service, and sang stirring traditional hymns as part of the Thanksgiving Service that followed at Poole’s High Street Methodist church where Mother had worshipped all her life and where she had been christened and married.

I gave a “Reflection”, as it was termed on the Order of Service, which outlined a life that had indeed been a generally peaceful one.

However, she began her life during a war, namely World War One, when one of her earliest memories was of watching a parade of soldiers as they marched through Poole on their return in 1918. There was only one family loss during the war, namely a much older cousin whom she hardly knew.

Mother also had vivid memories of World War Two, particularly of the events surrounding D-Day when Poole Harbour, which had been filling steadily with small ships prior to the invasion, was found to be completely empty when the locals looked out over the water on the morning of 6^th June 1944. She remembered being kept awake in the night as hundreds of planes droned overhead as they towed gliders towards their landing in Normandy.

Poole, being a port, was always on the lookout for enemy action, particularly air raids, and the occasional bomb did fall on the town. Mother remembered the morning after a bomb fell in the High Street and she saw the terrible scene of limbs and torsos scattered across the street. She also remembered her immense relief when it was pointed out to her that the victims were mannequins blown out of the windows of the 50 Shilling Tailor’s shop.

Mother’s own life did include a certain amount of turmoil, of which the devasting experience of suffering two miscarriages must constitute a large proportion. This followed the very difficult birth of my sister, who was not expected to survive but fortunately did. The desire to have a second child was the reason why I was adopted a few years later.

Another less than peaceful time was when the young family had to give up their home and move to that of my father’s parents. Mother found herself being both a parent and a carer, her charges being two elderly and increasingly frail people. It was not long before another extra family member turned up – my father’s unmarried elder brother who lived on at the house, of which he was part-owner, until long after the parents had died.

I think it says a great deal for my mother’s character that she took all this in her stride.

We – by which I mean me, my wife Sue and son David, together with the dog – rented a small house in Poole’s Old Town for the nights before and after the day of the funeral. We were therefore able to take the dog for some quite long walks around the town and out onto the area called Baiter which is a large open space that was reclaimed some years ago on the edge of Poole Harbour. 

After the funeral was over, followed by much catching up with relatives and people I had known decades ago but never seen since, the dog had to be rescued from the house and given a very good session on Baiter. 

Sue has long suffered from a problem ankle – she has had all sorts of treatments and investigations, but nobody is really sure why it just flares up from time to time and makes her life uncomfortable. She can go for months with no trouble at all, but it can suddenly make life difficult with absolutely no warning. The day of the funeral, following the long dog-walk, was one such occasion.

Sue finds that using an ice pack offers very good relief, and this usually takes the form of sitting with her leg up, supported on a bag of frozen vegetables. However, we had not taken such a thing with us down to Poole, so we had to buy one. We needed in any case to buy a few things from the branch of Sainsbury’s Local just round the corner, so a small pack of frozen petits pois was added to the bill. It would easily stay cold for long enough to give Sue some welcome relief from the pain in her ankle.

We therefore spent the evening sitting in front of the TV without really watching it but reflecting on the events of the day as the ice pack worked its magic. 

I’m not one of these people who believe that people who have died in the recent past are looking down on their nearest and dearest and expressing their approval or disapproval of what they are doing. However, if that had been the case, I can imagine the gesture of up-rolled eyes that Mother would have given had she heard the appalling pun that was produced by my twisted mind.

So – Rest in Peace, Mother.

Rest on Peas, Sue’s ankle.

© John Welford