h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Today you went to your uncle’s funeral.

No, it’s all right. He was old – a good 80 years. And he had cancer, and it hadn’t been pleasant these last few months so, all in all, something of a blessed relief.

Plus, you won’t pretend you knew him that well. He was considerably older than your Dad and they didn’t grow up together. And for years your family and Uncle’s did tag team Granny visiting so as not to overwhelm her, the point of which was, you didn’t meet.

You’d only seen him a few times since you moved back to the UK. He sent money and cards for your birthday, and your kids birthdays. The money was always more than you really thought was necessary. The cards were always funny, bawdy, crude or all three and always made you snigger. You rarely said thank you properly. Your main way of showing your appreciation was to put rather more effort into his Christmas presents than those for most of your other relatives. You doubt he realised this. Last year you found mugs which definitely beat Uncle at his own game. You were touched to be served tea in them when you went to see him for what turned out to be the last time. It’s a shame Christmas is coming up because Uncle tended to send Dad small, gloriously odd gadgetty presents, which were one of those little highlights of the season that you look forward to.

But those scant memories are not why you are feeling a bit depressed this evening.

Uncle was the sort of man who you were happy to think existed in the world. You didn’t know he has been expelled from public school for writing satirical verses about his teachers, but it didn’t surprise you. You didn’t know he was thrown out of the army on the grounds of mental instability for, among other things, painting his uniform in the white leather polish reserved for the belt. That surprised you. You didn’t know he wrote poetry, but you read some of it at the wake. It wasn’t boring. It wasn’t banal. That didn’t surprise you. Neither did some of the contributions to his running club’s newspaper. The one about working out some world record holder’s feat in units of tortoise, based on his observation of his own tortoise was your personal favourite. You knew how involved he was in various clubs in his home town, but it didn’t surprise you how warmly regarded he was by the members.

He was a lovely man, he made an impression on the world, so much so that even your son remembers him and he only met him, what, three times.


So actually, it's not alright, not alright at all really.

Place won't be the same without him.

I completely forgot, although I do not know how, the closing music.

End with a song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ic3g8Xnf7LI

What a beautiful eulogy, Sol. I'm otherwise speechless.

for uncle.

And for you. That was a very moving post and spoke volumes about the man.

Deb

My condolences, Sol. He would love to know that you have written that post.

PS - I'm enjoying listening to that song you linked to Did they play that at the funeral?

Thanks guys.

And yes indeed they did, TC. I don't know that he requested it, but I am pretty sure he would have approved.

Everyone was sitting there sniffing (it really was a very good eulogy) and then this came on, and then after a few minutes the... singing started, and then the watery chuckles. By the time we got outside, there was a lot more smiling than you would have expected. Everybody should have this at their funeral.

And that song... *shakes head in amusement*