It’s never good

Another day, another funeral. But they seem to be getting worse.

I’ve been to many, many funerals. Probably every Irish person has, it seems to be a thing that is done much more over here than in, say, England. What’s changing now is that the funerals aren’t for people who are many times my own age, they’re for people of my own age. Which means that you don’t have the usual comforting images round it. There haven’t been long illnesses, they haven’t had ‘a good innings’, it shouldn’t be ‘their time’. And yet, someone who was always full of life is gone, like that.

Another difference is that it’s a different kind of connection to the people being buried. It used to be that I’d be going to funerals of people I was related to, or there was a proxy connection, through a friend or family. But today, it was someone I was in primary school with, worked with and got drunk with. I knew her, not well, and not as well as I though. But, for pretty much the first time, I went to a funeral of someone I knew, rather than going because of something else.

RIP, Nuala. May you find more peace in the next life than you had in this one.

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