Good News amidst the grief

I didn't get up this morning until gone nine, after a broken night's sleep, so I had a slow start to the day. Clare was at her study group in Penarth this morning. She left me with a shopping list for the weekly visit to the Co-op for groceries so I did this before cooking lunch. 

While waiting for her to return, I phoned the person acting as next of kin for arrangements to make for next Friday's funeral at St Luke's. I learned that the woman who died had been, in effect, abandoned by her family to life in the old Ely Hospital, where people with a range of long term physical and mental disabilities were looked after before 'care in the community' dispersed them to sheltered accommodation units with carers. 

The lady I was speaking to had been a volunteer at Ely hospital before it closed and formed a close bond with the deceased, so much so that she took her into her own family and fostered her, an experience which changed the course of both lives. From incarceration in hospital subdued by drugs, to a place of her own and semi-independent living over the course of some, nourished by a sense of belonging to a family that had chosen to have her as one of their own. 

This experience led to her family fostering others during the years, and for her, a new career in counselling and disability advocacy. As a member of City Church, the Pentecostal congregation next to the old Westgate pub in town, she wants the funeral to be held close to where the deceased lived, and said she wants it to be a positive occasion of witness to neighbours and friends she made in the vicinity. A resurrection story, the way I heard it. She spoke with the warmth and affection of someone who really understands and lives the Gospel. I look forward to this service, aware that a couple of musicians from City Church want to contribute, and the lady herself wants to give the eulogy.

I went for a walk around Llandaff Fields mid-afternoon, returned for tea, uploaded photos taken in the past few days, prepared supper and ate alone, listening to the Archers, as Clare had gone to a meditation group. Then I went for another walk in Thompson's Park, and when I got back, Clare was eating supper, listening to the Archers on catch-up.

My sister June rang to tell me to watch a Sky Arts documentary about 2019 Portrait Artist of the year Duncan Shoosmith painting Sir Tom Jones for the National Museum of Wales portrait gallery. It's a very fine painting, though I've yet to see it in situ - somehow I missed it on my visit last month, I must go in there again and find out exactly where the painting is currently.

Then the second episode of 'Sherwood', with more surprises, and realistic authentic pit village dialogue from a community divided by its response the the miners' strike. It's getting excellent reviews in the press, well deserved.