I was dreading the funeral for many reasons. I had no idea how I would feel: would I be overcome by grief, jabber on like an idiot to fill in embarrassing silences, or experience the numbness of the punch drunk? These feelings coalesced around my eulogy, to which I gave a significance that it did not deserve. I agonised over this in a way that I had never agonised over speaking in public before. Somehow I had got it into my head that whatever I said would have a lasting bearing on Clare’s legacy. After writing and rewriting my script for an inordinate amount of time I discussed it with Clare’s brother and sister the night before the funeral over a few drinks. Clare’s legacy was not something so fragile that it could be jeopardised by whatever I was to say at the funeral and we agreed that it would be best if I just said what came into my head at the time and read out the poem I wrote for Clare shortly before she died. That conclusion helped to ease my mind and prepared me for the day to come.
The funeral ceremony at Saint Andrew’s Church in Congresbury was beautiful – lots of tears and laughter and a packed church with friends and family from far and wide. It was an honour to read out Clare’s words she dictated to me a week before she died. The highlight for me was when Jack and Ben lit small nightlight candles from the main candle that had been burning since Clare’s body was brought into the church. It was a touching symbol of the light that Clare was in our lives and how this light lives on in all of us but especially in Jack and Ben.
The sun shone beautifully making the song “I Can See Clearly Now” by Johnny Nash (Clare’s “theme tune”) all the more appropriate. The other songs we played were “Tears in Heaven” by Eric Clapton and “The Greatest Love of All” by George Benson, songs that were very special to Clare.
Clare’s body was carried from the church to the accompaniment of beautiful and uplifting Kenyan Gospel music. Clare’s body was buried just behind the boy’s school with the Mendip Hills as a backdrop. We scattered the soil on the wicker coffin in the traditional manner but with smiles as well as tears. Ben never wanted to stop scattering and got so close to the edge of the hole that I feared he was going to topple in.
Clare’s body was carried from the church to the accompaniment of beautiful and uplifting Kenyan Gospel music. Clare’s body was buried just behind the boy’s school with the Mendip Hills as a backdrop. We scattered the soil on the wicker coffin in the traditional manner but with smiles as well as tears. Ben never wanted to stop scattering and got so close to the edge of the hole that I feared he was going to topple in.
Saint Andrew's Church The family made a couple of large montages of photos of Clare in the hall. The boards provided a focal point and stimulus for memories that flowed along with the drinks. Clare’s Mum organised the catering and in the true family tradition there was food enough to feed 5,000. The bible reading was “the feeding of the 5,000” – a tribute to Clare’s legendary culinary capabilities, generosity and to the abundance of this world we live in. The kids were perfectly behaved throughout with Jack and Ben popping out for the occasional game of football.
It was a shame that I could not have spent more time chatting with everybody who had made the effort to be there but that is the nature of such an occasion. Fortunately many of those who came did get the opportunity to catch up with long lost friends. It is a shame that it takes a funeral to bring far flung friends together but Clare would definitely have been delighted that so many people said things like “I probably shouldn't say it but I really enjoyed the day.” The band, old friends from Clare’s university days, reformed for one day only, were excellent and much appreciated. The sound system struggled at times but I guess that made it all the more evocative of the old days. There was no dancing. No doubt there would have been had Clare been there in body rather than just in spirit.
After a couple of days it was just me, Jack and Ben. We can now find some kind of equilibrium. There is a lot of emptiness but also a lot of hope for the future. It will be the greatest challenge I have ever faced but I know that I will not alone in facing it and that helps immensely.
It was a shame that I could not have spent more time chatting with everybody who had made the effort to be there but that is the nature of such an occasion. Fortunately many of those who came did get the opportunity to catch up with long lost friends. It is a shame that it takes a funeral to bring far flung friends together but Clare would definitely have been delighted that so many people said things like “I probably shouldn't say it but I really enjoyed the day.” The band, old friends from Clare’s university days, reformed for one day only, were excellent and much appreciated. The sound system struggled at times but I guess that made it all the more evocative of the old days. There was no dancing. No doubt there would have been had Clare been there in body rather than just in spirit.
After a couple of days it was just me, Jack and Ben. We can now find some kind of equilibrium. There is a lot of emptiness but also a lot of hope for the future. It will be the greatest challenge I have ever faced but I know that I will not alone in facing it and that helps immensely.
Donations and Clare's Tribute Fund
Without the help of the Motor Neurone Disease Association and Weston Hospicecare our lives would have been so much more difficult. Both organisations rely on volunteers and donations so anything you can spare would be gratefully received.
Clare’s mother Sue-Jane has set up the Clare Viva Towner Mauremootoo Tribute Fund. All money donated goes to the Motor Neurone Disease Association.
Without the help of the Motor Neurone Disease Association and Weston Hospicecare our lives would have been so much more difficult. Both organisations rely on volunteers and donations so anything you can spare would be gratefully received.
Clare’s mother Sue-Jane has set up the Clare Viva Towner Mauremootoo Tribute Fund. All money donated goes to the Motor Neurone Disease Association.
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