Thursday's Child
Bassers crematorium is miles out of town, and the weather was blowy and bleak for my granddad's funeral. Having felt quite fine about the whole thing in the immediate days after his death, I found my mood deteriorating, on the day of his funeral, the nearer I got to my parent's place. When my Uncle Reiki starting chatting to me about how he knew granddad was in a better place, the emotions really started to set in. I believe what he says (in a completely different sense from him) but it is more the stirring of old memories that sets me off, when people do readings, and recall anecdotes about the departed and how, even if you had no personal involvement in the recollections, you get a sense of the richness of the most ordinary of lives. I realise I knew next to nothing about the quiet, unassuming old man that was being laid to rest.
As for the extended family, the old Cowes didn't fail in their ability to engage in a petty and tasteless argument, even at the burial of the family patriarch. The disagreement centred over my grandmother who has quite advanced dementia, and who the majority of the siblings did not want at the funeral. It was less about her potential distress at the burial of her husband of 60-years, and more about whether she might create a scene and be difficult. My Uncle Reiki, however, who has distanced himself from the entire family because of the bitterness and pettiness, and zenophobic attitude they have to his non-British partner, was adamant that she had the right to come, something which my mother supported. So, against the wishes of the other siblings, they brought her to the service and wake. Naturally, this resulted in certain people clustering together, muttering, bitching and actually refusing to talk to their own kin over the grave sin of letting a wife be present at the burial of her husband. These are the same people that practically circled like vultures over my grandparent's house, when they were put into care, to make sure that they got the best of the spoils, taking away possessions from people that were/are still living, with a quite contemptable zealotry. it was extremely upsetting for my mother, who is sensitive to things anyway, and Uncle Reiki (who is more zen about this family breach) admitted that he was "ashamed" by his own family, after the event.
For the record, my grandmother was wonderful, chatty with old friends, respectful and quiet during the service, and after my mother read out a beautiful poem that she had written about my granddad, she took mum's hand and said "thank you, that was lovely" with absolute lucidity. I hardly need to mention the irony of a Alzheimers-ravaged 80-something having more dignity than some of her own offspring...
I do think it is a shame, though, that I find it so immensely difficult to engage with my extended family. Our little branch has always been a little bit "outside" of the family, as we grew up in a different town from most of them, and took different paths (in terms of education and career). However, I know that these are my blood and that we share a lot in common, and ought to get on better. The truth is, however, that certain bitter and beligerant characters make me indifferent to trying, and that any small attempts to chat with various cousins is usually met with a look of shock and awe that I would even bother coming over.
Thank the lord for your family, and then curse them.
As for the extended family, the old Cowes didn't fail in their ability to engage in a petty and tasteless argument, even at the burial of the family patriarch. The disagreement centred over my grandmother who has quite advanced dementia, and who the majority of the siblings did not want at the funeral. It was less about her potential distress at the burial of her husband of 60-years, and more about whether she might create a scene and be difficult. My Uncle Reiki, however, who has distanced himself from the entire family because of the bitterness and pettiness, and zenophobic attitude they have to his non-British partner, was adamant that she had the right to come, something which my mother supported. So, against the wishes of the other siblings, they brought her to the service and wake. Naturally, this resulted in certain people clustering together, muttering, bitching and actually refusing to talk to their own kin over the grave sin of letting a wife be present at the burial of her husband. These are the same people that practically circled like vultures over my grandparent's house, when they were put into care, to make sure that they got the best of the spoils, taking away possessions from people that were/are still living, with a quite contemptable zealotry. it was extremely upsetting for my mother, who is sensitive to things anyway, and Uncle Reiki (who is more zen about this family breach) admitted that he was "ashamed" by his own family, after the event.
For the record, my grandmother was wonderful, chatty with old friends, respectful and quiet during the service, and after my mother read out a beautiful poem that she had written about my granddad, she took mum's hand and said "thank you, that was lovely" with absolute lucidity. I hardly need to mention the irony of a Alzheimers-ravaged 80-something having more dignity than some of her own offspring...
I do think it is a shame, though, that I find it so immensely difficult to engage with my extended family. Our little branch has always been a little bit "outside" of the family, as we grew up in a different town from most of them, and took different paths (in terms of education and career). However, I know that these are my blood and that we share a lot in common, and ought to get on better. The truth is, however, that certain bitter and beligerant characters make me indifferent to trying, and that any small attempts to chat with various cousins is usually met with a look of shock and awe that I would even bother coming over.
Thank the lord for your family, and then curse them.
posted by TheMightyDing at 12:13
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