Okay... a quick copy and paste!
The church was a Moravian church. It meant lots of singing and clapping (never a bad thing in church). I did a reading, youngest sister did a reading, middle sister read some tributes then cried! Niece cried and cried poor love.
They talked about this wonderful man who loved children. Had to gag my mother because she didn't believe it was my father in the box the words were so good lol!
The minister preached a good strong sermon. I kinda think he knew that there was more to my father than his sunday best. He quoted "The Dash"
That was the best thing that I took from the day.
My lovely cousin who co-ordinated the funeral with me stood and told the congregation that they shouldn't worry about what they do for the dead but what they do for people whilst they are alive. She's a lovely woman.
The Bishop from my mother's church prayed for our family (but not for my father because he said he wouldn't lie). I think he tried to outpreach the preacher with his prayer
Then the pall bearers took the coffin outside to the church grounds and we followed the choir and sang him into the ground.
A couple of deadbeat cousins were helping cover the grave (they cement it in) but it was all show. They would (and have tried to) rob us blind.
Then we left and went and had a fantastic chinese meal (immediate family only) and drank rum.
It was okay. I still feel nothing. Occasionally I think about the funeral and seeing my father in it. He looked like a bridegroom he was so spruced up.
The weather was good. We looked fab.
Oh yes... for the fashionistas on MN... you would have died (if you'll pardon the pun) seeing some of the outfits. My personal favourite was the the black, shiny, sequinned hotpants and belly top.
It was a hard week (especially being cooped up with the family) and I wasn't able to get away which I desperately wanted and needed, but such is life.
Anyhoo... thanks for your concern, thoughts and prayers. They are greatly appreciated.
Marsxx