We finally saw my dear old Dad off this week.
A cracker funeral, if such a word really should apply, plenty of tears, a fair few laughs, and to paraphrase Led Zeppelin, a whole lotta love.
As the new family elder (yikes), the eulogy fell to me, I made it, falteringly at times, through the 4000 odd words (long, I know, but he had quite a story to tell), and my greatest pleasure was the number of people who came up and said, "I never knew that".
Into the night and into the next day, the Black Irish came out, we all got very happy, the very bad jokes flew... "my dad was really badly burned.. oh dear, is he ok?,, ...well they don't hang around at those crematoriums..."
The end result? A great, good life was celebrated in a great and good way.
As I left to fly back out in the front yard I heard laughter and play.
My 25 year old niece Marcy was playing pirates with little Hanna and Harry, the youngest two of my brother Billy.
Life goes on.
Pa would have smiled.
Pics: Dad's gift of waves the weekend before the funeral, his bouquet of wildflowers, and the Battling Pirates.
POSTSCRIPT: My mate Mick Waters has made a pretty astonishing contribution to the Innersections Project, with a mindboggling little film on Proportion and Rastovich. Log in and vote Mick!