hathycol | (no subject)

So, we had the funeral for my grandmother on Thursday. It was bloody awful and as such went about as well as could be expected.

We drove up on the Wednesday night and I was painfully tired. Claire and George were kindly letting us stay over but when we got there I pretty much fell into the bed they had kindly provided.

On Thursday we dressed in terrible mourning clothes (by common assent I looked like the housekeeper in Rebecca) and via breakfast we trundled to Worcester to Grandad's house. It was... about as bad and could be expected. My parents were staying over and other family arrived slowly. Grandad wanted the coffin to be in the house. We didn't know why he was so insistent on it but he cried over it and apologised to her, because he'd promised to bring her home from hospital and this was the best he could do.

We went in the 'big' car to the crematorium, following the hearse. Richie was not invited and I am having a row with my mother about that in about a fortnight. There was a commital service at the crematorium. Richie was a pallbearer. We then went to their church for a memorial service which was very, er, Jesus-y. I did a reading from Corinthians, which we had at our wedding.

Basically I didn't cry very much because I had to power through for that reading and now I am a little, don't know, emotionally stumped up slightly.

On the bright side we had a proverbial family dinner afterwards. Some cousins from Canada came over, which was good to know.

I am keeping this post seperate as I needed to write it, but it's badly written. Sorry.