I went to a funeral today. I soon began thinking I perhaps shouldn't have.
They're not my favourite sources of past-times, and I've always avoided as many of them as I could, but as I hurtle towards fifty, there's more invitations to attend, and less of the family to go and represent us. I went to represent my mum - she died about 18 months ago.
It was her cousin's husband who had died. I can literally count on one hand the times I'd met them both, but it was as close as it ever got with the extended family, and mum loved her cousin very much, despite rarely seeing her. The cousin had moved to another part of the county decades ago. They were close when they were kids though, living near to each other, and they kept in touch on the phone all the time. It had been 23 years since I saw them last. Mum saw her more recently, maybe about 15 years ago.
A short service, a gathering of about 50+ odd people, at a guess. I sat out of the way. I managed to speak to mum's cousin's daughter before the service. I was seven the last time we met. I remembered. She didn't, but that's no drama. She kept it brief. I finally managed to catch up with mum's cousin before I left. She seemed genuinely thrilled to know I'd been there. We'd spoken on the telephone several times since mum died, though as I said, it had been 23 years since we saw each other.
While waiting to speak to mum's cousin, I decided to introduce myself to the husband of the daughter. That fell flat on its face, though he did thank me for coming, before rushing away. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. I felt so alone. I still don't know anything surrounding the death. I only know he's gone.
Maybe it's because of the contrast with the funerals of both of my parents. They were massively involved with their church, the same church where we held their funeral services, and a very welcoming & progressive church at that. Mum's service was practically standing room only, and I recognised very few people. We held the wake in the church hall, before the service, so as to allow people lots of time to arrive. My best friend was already there by the time I arrived from the crem. She said she'd never felt so welcomed by complete strangers before, and I never really thought much about the comment until today. When the service was over, I had a line of people waiting to speak to me. I didn't know any of them, and it was just beautiful.
I know this all smacks of "me, me, me", and I feel terrible felling how I do. But I felt so unwelcome, as if I shouldn't be there. It's only the thought of how thrilled mum's cousin looked to see me that makes me think I did the right thing by going. Sorry. Tell me someone that this is all normal. Please.