The Day of the Funeral

Yesterday was the hardest day of my life, my dads funeral. I don't know where to begin to start talking about the day. I woke up filled with a sense of dread at what I was about to face. I got dressed in my new pink dress and my brother came to pick me up to take me to Mums. The caterer arrived, complete with a massive teapot they had lent us, they were fantastic and we barely noticed they were there setting it up for us. After a little while people started to arrive. My sister and her husband, Darren and his daughter, my Dads brother Uncle Mick and his wife Linda. Soon enough it was 2:45pm and the hearse and limo arrived. Claire, who was running that part of things, had heard about my Dads career in the Royal Navy and had decided he deserved a Union Flag, so she had draped it over the coffin for us, along with our flowers and poppy wreath. It looked so beautiful. She had also stopped at a hop on her way to make sure everyone driving or at the crematorium could wear a pink rose in their top pocket. The attention to the smallest of detail was so lovely. We had promised Dad he would come home and he had, just not in the way we had all hoped for. I was the only one of the immediate family that hadn't been to the funeral home to visit him, so it was the first time I had seen the coffin. Obviously a lot of emotion came flooding out and my sister and I consoled each other. Then Mum came out and we took her to the hearse, she has lost her soulmate. Whatever I am feeling is only on the smallest scale compared to what my Mum must be feeling. Then we were into the limo to make our way to the crematorium. Once we were ready to go, Claire was going to walk in front of the hearse to the corner of the close. She stood alongside the coffin, took off her hat and bowed to my dad. That was when I lost the plot. I started crying so much I couldn't breathe and all I could manage to say was "that's my Daddy". I felt like a lost little girl. I could not understand the situation we were in. 

The service was beautiful, it was so perfect to what we hoped Dad would've wanted. His illness all happened so quick we never got a chance to speak to him about things and in previous times we have asked he had not wanted to talk about it. He managed to make himself known within the opening seconds of the service, the lights flickered and the sound system went down. Lisa, who was leading the service, acknowledged his presence and we all smiled. The rest of it went so smooth and she had written us the most amazing poem that she read out to us all. The time we spent immediately after the service and travelling back home. All I know is that once we were settled in at Mums with a cuppa in one hand and plate of sandwiches in the other, we had a lovely evening. Lots of stories, memories and catching up with people we hadn't seen for a long time. The right people, exactly the ones that Dad would've wanted to be there.

Today feels a bit strange, I feel like the reality of it all is settling in now and I don't know quite how to feel. One minute I want to cry, the next I am happy as I have remembered a special memory. All I can be certain of is that my dad may not be here in person but he is with me in spirit and he always will be. My Dad, my best friend, my hero.