Fiona's Quiet Life

That was the best funeral i have ever been to.

Because Gor­don had to be back in Den­mark by today there was no time for agon­ising about things, but there are so many wee details that need to be seen to.

It was not somber it was a cel­eb­ra­tion of a life fully lived, there was no Min­is­ter as hers had retired and the other ones didn’t know any­thing about her, so we had her favour­ite hymns played..I vow to thee my coun­try and for those in peril on the sea.…and she was car­ried in to amaz­ing grace and dis­ap­peared to Flower of Scot­land.. it was like a con­jur­ing trick , i was look­ing at the word sheet hast­ily prin­ted out by us the night before and when i looked up for the last couple of lines she was gone.….My brother thanked people for com­ing and then her young­est grand­daugh­ter spoke about her, them my older daugh­ter spoke about all the things she had fit­ted in to her long life from run­ning away to Lon­don aged 16 to be a bal­let dan­cer, hotly pur­sued by her irate father, to her being one of the first blue­bell girls etc etc. my brother’s first wife spoke about her ‘in memory of a feisty woman’ it all fit­ted per­fectly in the time allot­ted, then we all came back here and had a party.

Gor­don is back in Den­mark and i have col­lec­ted the ashes. we will scat­ter them near Glen Coe next time he is over here.

I have gone from being respons­ible for two ail­ing frail people to glor­i­ous free­dom from worry in 4 months, it is all very strange.

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