from my journal - In Memory of Our Uncle

a small spot of England to which we have a proper connection.

22nd may 2008

While it is fresh, I am sitting in airport lounge, a sort of special ‘free’ one for those who pay lots. Which I did.
The day started at 4.15am, we (bruv, sis in law, me) were all three fairly silent and sleepy. A long way to go.

Think I will stop now knowing how long it takes to power down ..
Quite a day tho.
More later.

27th May 2008
At home; builders are taking down my kitchen ceiling, so I am camping out in my front room. With a pal’s help on Sunday the kitchen is totally clear of anything, and I have a mountain of stuff to go to the dump and another to go to charity shops.

I also have some of my uncle’s photos, diaries, jottings; things to type up that he wrote. And I have a few letters to write telling people abroad about his death. I have had a few replies from people, which have been moving.

(since writing this i have had more and more letters and emails, and feel rather privileged).

Bruv, sis in law and I set off from their house soon after 5 in the morning. Bruv drove, and I suppose about an hour into the journey I suddenly lost my fear of driving (being driven) in England.. irrational, I know, but I do seem to suffer from it. the roads are just mobbed down there, and we saw two near misses on the way.

We arrived and found the church more by vague recollection and one or two signposts than by knowledge. It was as I remembered; lovely old church, on a bit of a hill with views over the Downs, and a slightly overgrown graveyard – peaceful and like an oasis. It was somehow comforting to be back here where we buried both granny and grandpa, and I felt we actually had a link to the land somewhere, which I had not quite taken on board before, and it was very comforting.

All four of us (plus spouses) were there early, about 9.30 I think, as other bruv had insisted he, sis and spouse got there early. I cant remember the last time we four were together, and it was rather a special gift Uncle had inadvertently given us; bringing us together and also in this particular place with its childhood memories and small plot of land marked by our grandparents, and soon to be marked by himself.

There was a bit of banter between the brothers – cars and so on. We had a look inside the church and wondered how many people could be got into it, and then we all piled into cars to a ‘coffee caravan’ in a lay-by they had seen for a coffee. We went on a small detour to Elizabethan Cottage to see how it had changed; it was still thatched, couldn't see grandpa's potting shed tho, and the old pond was gone - all gravelled over; a new cottage had appeared; there had been additions to the actual house. That’s all we could see really. Enough.

We headed back to the church after standing around chatting with much needed coffees. Eventually the hearse came along. It was sobering to see the coffin, and it almost made up for not having seen my uncle, but not quite, though it had to do. We all waited outside. The vicar was getting ready I think. One cousin and spouse had already arrived, he was walking their dog, she was tearful. Another cousin and spouse arrived. Very old pals of Uncle's in Uganda arrived. I think they all went off to look at the graveyard, and then went into church, after talking a bit to sis. An elderly couple walked up; I had written to the woman’s father but he had died, so they had seen the notice in the Telegraph and came along.

It was time to take Uncle into church. The Rev Canon and us 6 followed his coffin up the path and into the church. N, J, C and I sat together, M and S had to get into another pew. The service was very simple, very traditional and – I found – very moving, very stilling, and I could almost feel that Uncle was there with us. There was obviously a bird’s nest in the rafters and the cheep-cheeping from it kept us all company and felt very fitting. The wonderful still quiet of the old country church that seems to fill every corner; I felt I was enclosed in it, wrapped in it, safe, and nothing could have felt more ‘right’ for Uncle.

I managed not to sob and make an exhibition of myself by holding my breath a lot and digging my nails in to my palms.

It was time to take him out to his grave. We all followed him out into the sunlight along the path in the long grass to his spot. And it was all well done and so moving and so final.

We all in turn spoke to the vicar and thanked him and the funeral director. I was last, and it was nice to have a quiet word, and he apologised for not ‘blessing’ me as well in church; I think he probably thought sis and I were the same person, but it really did not matter, tho really sweet of him to say.

So then we siblings, cousins, spouses and old friends stood about for a while talking before heading off to a pub which had been decided on. one bruv and I went in his car with two sets of cousins and the old friends following in theirs. Of course we got lost and went the wrong way and there was no mobile signal at all to phone anyone! Anyway, one of the old pals rescued us – she knew where the pub was. We had a drink and lunch, and I sat mostly with M and S and J and cousin; who we got to know a bit better which was nice. M managed to stay far longer than I would have thought, and seemed to be talking quite a bit to people, and it was just generally a really nice atmosphere – just us few. Bruv and sis in law offered to do the catering for Uncle’s thanksgiving which is fantastic, and it seems we can have it in the church and use the church hall afterwards.

Eventually everyone had to go off on their various ways, with lots of email address exchanges and promises of being in touch and future visits.. it was eventually just sis and spouse and me left. We went off to a nearby garden centre to find some flowers for Granny, and I found some small pots of what i thought was Speedwell, thinking i recognised them because Granny taught me wildflowers when I was small. It was Speedwell, as it turned out, luckily! We drove back to church and we put the pots into the large pot on Granny’s grave, and had another look at Uncle’s which had now been covered over, with all his flowers on top.

So we left for Salisbury airport where they dropped me off for my flight home, on their way to Heathrow for their flight home to the US.

It was a good parting; it had been a very hard time, but in the end – that day – we four had been together and a few misunderstandings had been healed. We four parted knowing that we would be in touch and see each other again, and perhaps for some of us, knowing each other a little better.