The Shape of Things To Come

The Raven, richardault, 2008

I've never been to a funeral before and I wish I could say I'd never have to go to another.

The day began by meeting the rest of the family over at my grandmother's house before the funeral cortège arrived to take us to the cemetery. As we waited I took a seat by the window when my eyes were drawn to her chair. So jarringly unoccupied it brought to mind the shot of Tiny Tim's empty seat in The Muppet Christmas Carol - the muppets did it best. If the chair was peculiarly vacant, the room and the house were even more so. The short drive to the crematorium was quietly sombre. As a grandson I was first with the rest of the family to enter. My mind was concentrated on trying to remain composed amid the audible grief of my mother, aunt and uncle. This was not the first time for them - my grandfather died five years before I was born. Whilst the hall filled my thoughts were drifting toward understanding the situation. When the coffin itself was carried in, trying to remain detached became infinitely harder - eyes drawn front and centre, staring at it. I didn't look at the service booklet because of the picture on the back page - photographs have become too disconcerting.

The Reverse Will

Skrik, Edvard Munch, 1893

About twelve years ago my brother and I got pet goldfish. They died a number of times, probably due to our negligence; but we were unaware as our parents had replaced them, overestimating our attachment to the point of driving up the motorway to the pet shop in Renfrew one morning. To say that we were upset about this would be an outright lie, truth be told I pretty much forgot we had them - the cat was the centre of attention. Pet fish are really an entry level pet, the sort that a child can make a fatal error without having any serious mental scars. Ashes to ashes, flush to flush. Later on my cat disappeared. He was older than me by a few years so it was all but confirmed he went to find a place to die. Still, the ambiguity makes denial easier, and I wasn't as upset as I would in a more clear cut situation - as when my second cat was run over. That was much different because I had her from kittenhood. Animals do have personalities. Despite not witnessing it, her death is quite clear in my mind. That led to an excruciating post in 2005 that I'm not going to link back to.