How far into the past do I want to delve? Last week is history in a sense and, in my life, it was marked by a sad farewell to my father-in-law. Though my dad died when I was four and my mother went some 14 years ago I am nevertheless very aware that many baby boomers are sharing this experience of saying farewell to our parents and moving into the front line.
There was a such a poignancy when the hearse carrying Jim’s coffin arrived in the Close. He and Joyce had lived in the house for most of their married life and all the children had grown up there. I suddenly saw an image of them as young newly weds, strolling into the Close for the first time, all agog to see the house they were about to buy from a family friend. Joyce died eight years ago and now Jim too was leaving for ever. They lived there through the 50s and 60s as their children grew up, in the 70s as those children left home, in the 80s as their grandchildren started to arrive plus retirement, with the opportunity for travel and leisure, the nineties as Joyce became so ill with osteoporosis and finally beyond the millennium as Jim lived alone then finally, bravely, with good grace, humour and all his marbles intact, succumbed to terminal illness.
I am an observer, seeing my family-in-law grieving for this lovely man. I’m also a mourner, as I loved him deeply.
I drew on my techy and arty-farty skills to create a DVD of photographs to play at the wake. Dave suggested the second movement of Rachmaninov’s 2nd Piano Concerto as a backing track, and I fiddled about to get the sound and music to finish at the same time. What a delight to be able to do this, and how privileged I felt to spend so long with each photograph, watching the boy turn to young lover, to proud father, to loving carer, then to a very sick yet spirited old man who really wanted to die.
(To be continued)
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