My feet are cold. Summer is over. Of course, I'm only wearing my dressing gown. I'm not at work. I'm going to a funeral. One of my favourite aunties, auntie Pat. Of course, she was the smoker, she was the nervy one. No wonder. But Lottie says she's almost eighty, if she isn't eighty already. She was one of the nicest people you are ever likely to meet. Direct. Loving. Interested. Funny. Dry. Sensible. Smart. Friendly. Down to earth. No none sense. I haven't seen much of her lately, so it will sound a little hollow to say I'll miss her.
"Hello Chriso," she'd always say, with that smile and that friendliness that always shone out of her.
She was a teacher too. Quite beloved, from all accounts. That's no surprise to me.
So, I'm going to her funeral today. I'll see all my cousins. I only see them at funerals now.
I hate funerals. I've almost called mum and cancelled twice. But, at least, it gives me the morning off. Is that what funeral's are for, a day off? I guess they are, time to stop and reflect on who has died. We owe them that much.
Of course, Auntie Pat was from the catholic side of the family. Oh God, I don't think I will be able to stomach all that crap. Fixed smile. Think of Auntie Pat. Oh well, I guess that part will give me a good laugh. Fixed smile. Fixed eyes. Laughing underneath.
You just know I'll be wondering how many young boys cocks the priest has played with, whenever I look at him.
See you at the next one, I said to one of my cousins as I left. Must be your turn next to lose a parent, she still has both. She laughed and agreed to both propositions.
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