Funeral blues (and other depressing colours)

Yesterday was the Father-in-law's funeral. He died nearly a month ago, but apparently the Lincoln cremation service has a bit of a backlog. So we dug out the smart clothes and took what has to be the ugliest route in the UK, past garish transport cafes festooned with Union flags and signs the size of buses offering burgers for a pound. 

The Father-in-law had left no will, and because of the nature of his death (nine months after a stroke which left him unable to communicate) we had no idea of his wishes for his funeral, so he had a fairly generic do. It was something we discussed at a family meal afterwards: make sure you leave a list of do's and don'ts (and, yes, I had to look up the use of apostrophes in that phrase, as it just didn't look right). Anyway, wishes ranged from 'chuck me in a ditch somewhere' (the sister-in-law's husband) to detailed burial instructions, complete with particular hymns. Personally, I have changed my mind from cremation to a woodland burial. Just in case you're involved, I'd like a wicker coffin (or a cardboard one that everyone can scribble messages on) and to be buried at the woodland site just outside Bury St Edmunds, and have a hawthorn planted over me. That way, I can join the food chain and live forever. No-one is to wear black - I'd like all my hundreds of mourners to wear bright colours. I've not decided on songs: shall we go with something straight to the point, with 'Dead' by My Chemical Romance, or a sing-along version of 'Always look on the bright side of life'? Certainly, everyone will go to the pub afterwards (The Dog and Partridge, I think) and bring up embarrassing family stories. And then everyone will go home saying, 'That was nice, wasn't it?' rather than being sad. Either that, or a New Orleans-style jazz funeral, but that may be a bit pricey. 

I know it's a Holi celebration, but let's do this, too. 

(Although they may not let you in the pub afterwards.)

So now you know. I just thought it was rather sad that no-one knew what the Father-in-law wanted. I know some people don't like to discuss 'that sort of thing', but as it's going to happen to us all, why the heck not?

I suppose the one good thing to have come out of all this, is that I've got to know my sister-in-law and her husband better. They may only live a couple of hours away, but we've never really been in touch that much. And I met one of The Husband's cousins yesterday. A great guy, despite being a UK Independence Party supporter, he was the sort with whom you could have long rambling conversations about religion and politics, without it getting violent. I find it very difficult to relax with people when I've only just met them (in other words, I'm an unsociable cow), but he was someone I could spend several hours down the pub with, putting the world to rights. A bit like Ms Fab and Mrs GSOH, who I've not mentioned for ages, but who have kept me going recently. Because the brother-in-law's problem, with fluid on the brain, could potentially be something a lot worse. He had a brain scan, with a view to putting in a shunt to drain all the rubbish away, but they found something that shouldn't be there. We (and the doctors) don't know quite what it is yet, but he's in hospital and going to have surgery imminently. Families, aye?

Anyway, I should be researching why it's necessary for scholars to take account of conflicting and contested perspectives when studying religious practices, but I think I'll head off to YouTube to look at funeral songs. I'm thinking a bit of Dolly Parton might be good?