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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

The small, neat and deceptively deep hole had been dug just inside the gates to the church, lined with leafy branches and surrounded by the old funeral wreaths, which look tired and sad. Two big sods of grassy clay lie apologetically beside the hole.

The church is only open two months of the year, due to the lack of local congregation. In July and August it is boosted by seasonal visitors and tourists, so my uncle and aunt run it for those two months, and tend to its upkeep for the rest of the year.

New bunches of flowers are brought out of the church, as we all troop together, walking slowly and staring at our feet. It's only a small gathering, the main funeral having been held weeks ago in front of a huge crowd of people wearing their mourning best. Now it is just his wife and his children, with us standing in the background to support his sister in law, my grandmother. His daughter is tearfully clutching to her chest the green plastic container inscribed with his name and containing his ashes.

The vicar dons his purple sash, and begins talking about how appropriate it was to be performing this ceremony on Easter Saturday, a time my uncle would have been very busy organising the church in town for the Easter celebrations. In the silence that followed, his daughter stepped forward and carefully placed the ashes in to the grave, in the manner of a mother putting a baby down to sleep. The vicar began to read the burial service as the sun shone above us. Nothing else could be heard for miles.

Today was my uncle's birthday.

This entry was posted on 10 April 2004 at 5:13 pm. 0 comments

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