David Medlycott

IT’S AN AGE THING!

Funerals. We’ve just been to the third Humanist funeral in six months. Sadly, my uncle Ron (Ronald Walter, I’ve just discovered his second name) died at the end of last month. He was ninety two, and I’ll avoid the clichés here. But, it was interesting to see yet another Humanist ceremony. I quite like it, not being a religious person myself I think it is much better to listen to an account of someone’s life and to celebrate it. I always feel that most of the people attending church funerals are like me, but just hedging their bets. We had a touch of brightness, too, at Ron’s funeral, he was a lifelong Arsenal supporter, so the family asked us all to wear something red and white.
The other aspect of funerals, and of weddings, come to that, is the family get together after; it’s merely the tone of the event that differs. I only met my uncle Ron for the first time a few years ago. My father was one of seven siblings, five boys, my father in the middle, and a pair of twin, younger sisters. Ron was the next youngest brother. We had been invited to my aunt’s Golden Wedding anniversary, only two or three years after my father had died, and walking into the room I was suddenly faced with my father, and it’s quite a jolt when that happens. There were differences of course, Ron was shorter and didn’t have my father’s military moustache, but those things don’t register immediately. Now there are only the twins left. Both are in their late eighties and were there.
It is an age thing; only when you lose, or are about to lose, something do you appreciate it’s true worth. The popularity of TV genealogy shows is something to do with this, I’m sure. As you pass a certain age your perspective on life changes; making you more aware of its transience. There is a need to rediscover those lost relations before it’s too late. Get those family photo’s out and write on them who’s who, because it’s quickly forgotten. Write down the family stories, because they will get corrupted with the French whispers of time. Even though the younger generation, hark at me!!, may not have too much apparent interest, that change of perspective will slowly creep up on them, too. That change of perspective hits you when you realise that you are now the older generation that has to be worried about by the younger.