Why does Henry spend so much time at funerals? Does he have numerous old friends or is there a hidden agenda?
Henry bowed his head and prayed the ‘Lord’s Prayer’ with the hundred or so people gathered around John Clough’s casket. Reverend Lawrence Skeats delivered a glowing eulogy, telling of John’s generosity and kind deeds performed for the benefit of others without though of his own needs. He recalled John’s passion for life and his dedication to his family. Henry nodded slowly in agreement with a trace of an understanding smile on his cracked lips.
The rain that had been threatening to dampen the day slowly began to fall; only a light drizzle but enough to send a chill through Henry’s old and bent body. He shuffled his feet slightly, feeling some water seep in through the soles of his shoes. Pulling the collar of his worn coat around his scrawny neck he marvelled at the amount of friends that John had accumulated over the years.
John’s son, Mark, stood up to say a few words about his father. He emphasised how much he owed to this tower of strength who had instilled in him from birth the virtues of doing good to others. “As my dear dad used to say to me often, what goes around comes around”. Mark trembled slightly with emotion and his voice broke as he recounted some of his father’s achievements. His father’s love of sailing and of the sea; his love of poetry and classical music; the friends he had made over the years. He finished with a quotation from John’s favourite poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, ‘Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea.’
Henry looked over at the boy and his heart welled up with fondness and compassion for the young man who was about to become the man of the house. A solitary tear trickled down his stubbled cheek, landing inside his worn shirt collar.
Mavis Jones, who was standing on his right, placed her arm around his shoulder and uttered a few comforting words into his ear. She had already decided that this elderly man must have had a great affection for the deceased and was filled with regret that she hadn’t taken the time to get to know John Clough better.
Finally John’s coffin was lowered into the grave. Mavis spoke to Henry, “You must have been a great friend of his, I’m sure you will miss him terribly.” Henry nodded sadly. “Are you coming back to the house for some afternoon tea?” Henry told her that he would love to go but he didn’t have a car. “Not a problem,” Mavis beamed at him, “You’ll come with me and Arthur and then we can take you home after if that’s alright with you.”
Henry gratefully accepted their invitation and despite the sadness of John’s death he was able to eat and drink heartily for several hours. The whisky decanter was handed round and Henry accepted enthusiastically. ‘This is the stuff to numb the pain’ he thought as he tipped a second slurp into his glass. He had a lovely afternoon and Mavis and Arthur dropped him home about seven in the evening. They promised before leaving that they would ring him the next day to make sure he was feeling alright.
The next day Henry bowed his head and said ‘The Lord’s Prayer’ with the hundreds of mourners gathered around Fred McCain’s coffin. Betty Tuffin placed a caring arm around his shoulder when she saw him shed a tear. Henry looked at her gratefully and hoped that today’s wake would see the whisky passed around once again.
It had been a good week; five funerals and four invitations for afternoon tea. He had saved a fortune in food since he first started visiting the local cemetery and had now saved up almost enough to visit his daughter in Ireland.
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Reviewed by Sheila Ings
1/14/2008
What a funny cute story, I thoroughly enjoyed this Norman.
Reviewed by Kristi Hudecek
12/29/2007
This was a good one. I thought maybe he was going to these funerals to get free booze. I didn't think he was doing it because he was a cheap old mizer and just wanted a free meal. Great story.
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