morning of the funeral

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Portishead, BristolNo-one slept well that night. All awake and dressed before the alarms chimed.

I took mum to the hairdressers and wandered around town trying to think of Christmas,  stay warm, share the apparent normality of the other pedestrians.

No rush, everything sorted, I just wanted to get it over with. I think we all expected the funeral and wake to bring a closure that might release deep sleep and remove what feels like a physical hangover as if mild alcohol poisoning were running through my blood, amplifying noises, emotions and bringing a feeling of physical sickness.

Mum’s hair looked good. Later she showed me dad’s tie collection. Did I want any? I wanted them all, I wanted to look at them and imagine him wearing them, I wanted to tease him about his taste in ties.

Wendy:  “No, I don’t think I’ll wear them and I don’t know anyone who wears ties. That one’s nice

Mum: “It was your dad’s favourite

Ties If mum hasn’t given them to charity by the next time I visit, I think I will take some and wear them. Clearly we have a similar tie-design sensibility…

morning of the funeral
4 votes rating 5

2 bits of lovely banter on “morning of the funeral”

  1. Scarlet writes:

    I used to wear ties as belts… but would this be disrespectful? My Dad would shake his head and think it typical of me…. so maybe I would just be reinforcing our connection in my mind.



  2. wendy writes:

    Lateral thinking, there’s probably some good uses I could make of them – headbands, sewn together as a funky maxi skirt, something else…



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