Thoughts of a funeral-goer

Posted by Lyra Mollington

We were both in sombre mood as we travelled back along the M4 in Myra’s bright yellow Honda Jazz. 

We’d had a slight tiff as we viewed the flowers after Trevor’s funeral.  Whilst I was keen to go back to the house for light refreshments, Myra was going on about the long drive home.  We couldn’t even agree on whether it should be called a reception, a wake or an after-party.  I’m fairly sure that Trevor’s body would have to be there for it to qualify as a wake. 

I digress.  Marjorie had put on the most marvellous spread of sandwiches and cakes.  It seemed to lift her spirits to see us all tucking in.  After circulating for a few minutes, I discovered the identity of the miscreant with the inappropriate ring tone – one of Trevor’s drinking pals.  Ring-tone Man assured me that Trevor would have “loved it”.  And that he was “all forgive and forget”.  I began to warm to Trevor’s friend, Andrew.  However, the distinct smell of alcohol was rather a mystery at one o’clock in the afternoon. 

Marjorie invited me to write in the remembrance book.  There were quite a few R.I.P.s together with, only the good die young/ miss you forever/we’ll never forget you.  And the baffling “Your (sic) a real ledge mate!”  Andrew had written, “Anything to get out of buying a round you tight bugger! Mine’s a double! LOL!” 

However, I put away my disapproving face –  these were the people who had cared about Trevor and they thought a great deal of him.  I glanced across at a room full of smiling faces and quickly dismissed my original idea of writing something in Latin.

As I tried to think of some mots justes, I looked at the photographs that were on display.  I spotted an old black and white one taken of all the cousins on my mother’s side of the family.  We were in height order: me, the eldest, at the back.  And right at the front, there was little Trevor – with his mop of blond hair and his huge lop-sided grin; not a care in the world.  Myra was right – it was going to be a long drive home.

“He thought the world of you two you know.”  It was Andrew.  Apparently, Trevor was proud of his cousins who went to the grammar school.  And although we were “a bit posh” we were “up for a laugh”.

I wrote, “You will always be our beautiful golden-haired boy with the cheeky smile.  You gave us fun and laughter.  Thank you Trevor.  Per aspera ad astra.”