Death seems to have hung around me like a shroud this week. My mum's lovely Godmother died, she lived a long and full life and died at the ripe old age of 91, but I am still very sad as she was such an extraordianry woman and I have many happy memories of her and of childhood holidays spent at her cottage near Scarborough.
Tragically, my friend's husband died of brain cancer this week too. He was 37, had a wife and a 3 year old daugher. I met this friend when we were both pregnant and i am devastated for her. I wrote her a card and sent flowers and another friend of mine (who I also met when pregnant - we were kind of a mini club) is flying with me to attend the funeral (she moved away a year ago). I want to go, I want to go and support my friend because I certainly know that funerals are not just about paying your last respects to the departed, but about supporting the living. But I am worried, I'm already trying to build up a kind of 'daddy arsenal' of tokens of my dad to keep me strong so that I don't fall apart. Does that sound silly?
The last time I went to a funeral was his funeral last September, September 27th. I still have what I wore, it's quite nice, I remember choosing it because I knew he would have said I looked nice and I wanted to do him proud. Shall I wear the same thing? I now consider it my funeral outfit in many ways. Does it really matter? Of course not. I don't have another black dress.
It's funny, I often break down in tears when I try to verbally talk about my dad, but in this I feel like I need him with me, or a part of him, to help keep me strong. My dead Knight. Sorry, I know that sounds rather macabre, I mean it in a positive way. My dad was always my champion.
The funeral will be very different to my dad's. It's in Germany for a start and there'll be no following a herse - the cremation will have already taken place before the service.
I don't really know why I'm whittling. I've booked the flights and the hotel and I'm going.