gothams3rdrobin | (no subject)

Well, we got through today unscathed.

It's been hectic - thanks to financial constraints, I couldn't go get any decent clothes to wear until last night. So once Rowan was safely in gymnastics class, I headed into town and Mam collected him for me at the end of the session. I dislike clothes shopping when there's a specific event happening - hell, I only barely enjoy clothes shopping just for the heck of it. But it's not fun trying to find sombre, respectable clothes when all the stores are stocking christmas partywear. Spangles and bright colours abound!

I also wasn't happy with the idea of wearing a suit, as I find them very uncomfortable. So I came away with a thick black cardigan, a nice purple blouse-type thing, and...a black corduroy skirt.

Yes, you read that right. I wore a skirt today. Someone pass

thaya_rayal the smelling salts, please?

The downside to wearing a skirt is that it also means I have to wear tights *shudder*, and make sure I have reasonably smart shoes on. Though, in fairness, I needed to get shoes anyway as the ones I've been wearing have a small tear in the top courtesy of the very, very tough big toenail on my right foot. (All the strength I lack in my fingernails seem to have found its way to my toenails, with often painful results...) I didn't get a chance to buy shoes last night, as the shoe shops were all closing and I wasn't paying department-store prices, so I had to get them this morning after dropping Rowan off at school.

Dad was anxious to get an early start today, so I had to rush through the trip to the shoe shop and get showered and dressed as fast as I could. We ended up heading out of town at about eleven, reaching my Nan's house by twelve. It was slightly uncomfortable at first, as we sat around having a cuppa and talking. I was fairly okay while people were talking, but the periods of silence gave me time to think about what would be happening in just a couple of hours, with predictable results. Nan tried to comfort me a little, saying that Grampy wouldn't want me to be crying - which is true. I hadn't actually had a proper cry since the day he died, probably because I knew I was going to be crying enough today.

I hated having to go in the funeral car - the second time I've done that. First time was at my Mum's father's funeral a couple of years ago, and we were in the second car that time. This time there was only the five of us. Mam, Dad and I squeezed into the middle seats, while Nan and Uncle Andy sat at the back; I managed to crack a joke when Dad sat on my skirt, which made everyone else laugh. The journey was like something out of 'William & Mary', with the funeral company's Chief Mourner (complete with top hat and cane) walking on ahead of the hearse for most of the journey. Every time he got in and out of the car (we had to cross a busy roundabout at one point), he'd bow slightly at Grampy's coffin. It was so weird, driving so slowly along Barry High Street, and the others couldn't help commenting on those who stopped (or didn't) to watch the funeral procession go by. It's not something that happens in Cardiff - I doubt drivers around here would tolerate the sedate pace.

Nan and Grampy belong to their local Spiritualist church, which is not a denomination I'm familiar with. Apparently, though, that's where my Dad got his start as Grampy sent him to the Lyceum as a child. (He's now a Wesleyan Methodist, and a lay-preacher who goes to Methodist, Baptist and United Reformed churches) The service wasn't anything outside of my prior experience, though it did seem a great deal less formal. The guy officiating - we later discovered it was his very first funeral - was very good, and his sermon was actually strangely comforting; he talked about Grampy's life, the 'blind date' that started his relationship with Nan (and yes, he cracked a joke about Cilla Black's tv show), and his spiritualism. Dad then got up to say a few words and, as is his habit when the situation allows, managed to crack a few jokes. I'd teared up during the first hymn, but then managed to keep it together till the end of Dad's speech, when he just broke my composure all over again. *sigh*

After the service, we all went up to the cemetery. I'd never been to an internment before; the last person I knew who was actually buried was my Dad's mother, and I was only ten at the time. Everyone else has been cremated, I think. So this was a new experience for me. The coffin was lowered straight into the grave at the start, instead of at the end like you see on tv and in the movies. Tony said some more at the graveside, about how Grampy had moved on to the spirit world and was, essentially, not gone - just in the next room. This set me off all over again, at the same time as being - again - strangely comforting. We then threw roses onto the coffin, and Nan's composure finally cracked, albeit briefly. She was so strong all day, and was able to laugh and joke by the time we all gathered back at the house for the wake.

The thing that got me through it, oddly, was remembering that today is Thanksgiving in the US. Partially because I'm due to help out in a role-play scene wherein the Bat-Clan celebrate. I was telling myself that I have a great deal to be thankful for; that my grandfather loved me dearly, I had him in my life for nearly thirty years and I have a lot of good memories of him - including the final time I saw him, where he helped Rowan not be so nervous around him by showing how the controls on his hospital bed worked. Isn't that what Thanksgiving's all about, really?

We went to collect Rowan from his friend Isaac's house a couple of hours into the wake, and he was very well behaved. My cousin Stephen's two daughters, aged six and four, had joined us by this time as well, so he had company. I can't remember the last time I saw Stephen; he and his parents used to live on the top two floors of my grandparents' four storey house - now occupied by Uncle Andy. I never used to be allowed to go upstairs, as Aunty Beryl wouldn't allow it, so I have something of a mental block about visiting Uncle Andy in his own domain, even though I know it's permitted now. Rowan, thankfully, has no reason to feel the same way.

All in all, the day went really well. I'm relieved it's over, and that we can now get on with life and our happy memories of my Grampy.