At the time, I couldn't bear the thought of holding a memorial service/celebration of life after the funeral: the funeral was the celebration of life.
Most of the people who would have attended were there. (We were allowed 20.) I hesitate to say this here because I know that I'm privileged compared with others here, but DH outlived most of his friends.
It took everything in me to organise the funeral and at the time I couldn't bear the thought of going through all that again.
DH's brother would have come up for the funeral, but I told him to stay at home - his wife had had a stroke and my BIL is his carer. Also, DH's sister was waiting for a cancer op. (Thankfully, that went well.) Our nephew attended and represented that branch of the family.
Later that year, I got a letter from DH's regiment. (He was a short-term regular - did three years.) They were holding a drumhead service to commemorate the amalgamation of the regiment and intended to incorporate a memorial element for those who died during the pandemic. Normally, the regimental association is represented by members at funerals.
I was allotted tickets for a service at Holyrood. I invited Dh' brother and nephew. Also DH's grandchild (who was 21 at the time). DH's son had been told to shield and the advice was still that folk in his situation should distance. The daughter had refused to come to the funeral because she had developed adult-onset asthma at some point. Their mother represented them at the funeral.
I never told them this, but before he died, DH told me that he didn't think that the kids would attend his funeral. This was before the pandemic and I told him that he was wrong, of course they would...
I realised afterwards, that he was telling me that they wouldn't come up to support me. (They've since been at DH's memorial stone, judging by the flowers that were left for a significant birthday, three years after he died.)
I never did hear back from the grandchild, but my BIL and nephew were both at the drumhead service. The Queen was supposed to be in attendance, but we were told that the predicted bad weather meant that her copter couldn't make the trip from Balmoral. Even then, we were pretty sure that she simply wasn't well enough.
The Duke of Kent did attend and that was pleasing - he was my husband's old tank commander. (DH was his gunner.)
It was a beautiful day and the setting of the gardens was simply lovely. It gave me a great deal of comfort.
While we were waiting outside the gardens, the regiment and association marched down the Royal Mile, led by the pipes and drums. As they passed us, they were playing Rowan Tree.
This sounds like something made up for a Hallmark movie, but as they went past, I turned to my BIL and said "That was [DH's adoptive mum]'s favourite tune." Just then, a white feather floated down and hit the pavement right in the middle of where the three of us were standing. No sign of any birds.
No, I didn't think to pick it up.
We were allowed to take photos after the service. I've cropped this to remove recognisable faces, but included enough to let you see a bit of the setting.