Some days are a real mixture of joy and sadness. Even the weather was full of contrasts today. This morning dawned wet but mild. The wind was surprisingly warm for January in England, but the grey sky seemed appropriate somehow. A friend of the family died just before Christmas and was due to be cremated at midday today. Joan was a very special person, but we had lost touch over the years due to this and that and so I was not sure whether or not it would be appropriate for me to attend. As it turned out, my own family felt very strongly that I should be there, if only to represent other members who could not owing to work committments. Like I said, Joan was special.
By noon the weather had cleared up and her cortege arrived at the chapel in brilliant sunshine. The wind, though, had sharpened to cutting iciness that threatened to freeze the tears on the eyes of the mourners. I am a great believer that death is not the end of the story, but am still saddened by the grief of family and friends and so I had made sure to pack some tissues. A wise move as the man sitting next to me - professing to have a cold - gratefully accepted one to wipe his eyes. Three were there from our family: my teenage daughter, her twenty-something brother and me. Hearing a slight sniffling to my left I passed a tissue to youngest and she whispered that she felt silly to be crying when she did not actually know the lady and had only gone to support Joan's son who is a kind of drinking friend of all of my children. He had been devastated at the loss of his mother. The funeral was moving and well attended. On our way home we talked of Joan and youngest suddenly realised that she had known her and began to cry all over again.
Well, after the sadness of the funeral, it was good to get home to an enthusiastic greeting from the dogs. Possibly because of the Christmas backlog the post has been late this week and did not arrive until this afternoon. In amongst the bills was a larger envelope containing my contributor copy of Shadow Writers 2 edited by Paul Kane. It looked great and I have been reading the other stories over the course of the afternoon. Suellen Luwish's Pretty Enough was familiar, but seemed even better on the second reading. It is one of those stories that have you looking forward to the ending with even more glee once you know what is about to happen. The book is due to be launched on Saturday in London and I am trying to organise things so I can attend. That would be a real high as Suellen has asked me to hug every man in the room on her behalf. Whoever said writing is a lonely craft?
