Closure

We drove to Weston super Mare this morning to pick up Owain from the railway station and then travelled together to Bleadon Hill to meet with to meet with Jules, Nicky, two of her boys and former neighbours, to bury the ashes of my sister Pauline, thirteen months after her lockdown funeral at Worle crematorium. Owain attended on our behalf, and now joined us to lay her ashes to rest along with those of her husband Geoff and daughter Kay in a plot by the south door of the 14th century Parish Church of Ss Peter & Paul.

We were locked down in Cardiff, and Jules in Dubai. Finally the Emirates lockdown has ended and he has been free to travel to Britain and to Youghal in Ireland where he has bought an apartment and his in-laws live. So this was a special family gathering for all of us.

We gathered in the church with Pauline's ashes on a table at the chancel step, and sat together in silence for ten minutes. We weren't able to bring her body in for a funeral thirteen months ago, but it seemed right to close the circle by pausing here before placing her ashes alongside Geoff's and Kay's in the plot just outside. We were welcomed by the churchwarden, who checked us in for track and trace purposes, and then left us to our own devices.

After our quiet time,  we went to the vault and I read the Office for the Burial of Ashes. Jules installed  her urn alongside Geoff's and Nicky put flowers over it. The memorial stone has already been inscribed with Pauline's details, and by the end of the day will cover the opening.

On the funeral service leaflet was a photo of my sister which I instantly recognised as one taken when she was, maybe twenty one. It stood on the sideboard at home along with another of my sister June I think. The photo used was scanned for use in the leaflet, and not among pictures from the archives of Jules and myself. In discussion over refreshments after the interment, it turned out Nicky still had a copy of it on her phone. There wasn't enough reception in the church hall, so we had to go out into the car park to get a signal, so she could send it to us both. It's one of those photos which evokes childhood. I can visualise the other photo of my sister June, at a similar age, but don't have a copy. I bet she does!

There was also a studio portrait photo of me on the sideboard at home as a late baby, ten years on, but not of me as a young adult. By that time studio portraiture was being made redundant by a new era of consumer film cameras, box Brownies and the suchlike. June was the keen photographer in the family and there were smaller framed photos of me on the sideboard, but not studio portraits. Not even a posh graduation photo! Strange to think about this fifty years later. It didn't seem to matter in the convention breaking swinging sixties, when everybody became 'consumers', many for the first time.

As we parted company, Jules and Nicky returned to Brecon View where there spent many years growing up, an important point of reference in their lives. The house has been sold and renovated over the past year, and the new owners, who happened to be away today, invited them to return and look around the garden to see what they'd done with it. It's a significant moment when, for whatever reason, you lose a family home. 

We headed back to Bristol with Owain, who took us to see from the outside the apartment he is in the process of purchasing, painfully slowly. The process has dragged on for many months because of the huge demand on all conveyancing solicitors over the past year. He is philosophical about it, but for his sake I wish it was all over. It was gone eight by the time we reached home. We had to stop for petrol at Tesco Extra on the way in, as we were down to our last five litres. We've driven more in the past six weeks than in the past eighteen months. Tomorrow, the car has to go in early for servicing.