Today was my aunt's funeral.
The first word that springs to mind when I think of her is "kind". She loved her family to bits and they doted on her. She married my dad's brother in 1965 and it was clear they loved each other inside out. And even though I saw her less as the years went by, she always made me feel at ease at family events. And as the woman who's put up with a male Ephgrave the longest, statistically speaking, she deserved a medal (he says in jest).
The service itself was lovely. She'd played an active part in its planning, which made it feel more intimate. COVID restrictions meant only thirty people could be there, which must sting, but I was glad to be among them. And it was good to see my uncle and my cousins even if it was in the worst circumstances; it always strikes me how the Ephgraves have a look and sound about them, with shades of my nan and grandfather - and of course my dad - on every face.
Inevitably, my thoughts turned to him today. A week or so ago, I picked up an answerphone message from my uncle and the similarity to my dad in both timing and cadence hit me right in the heart. I had to psyche myself up before calling back because I knew it would be like talking to him again if only for a moment. If I suspended my disbelief.
Seeing my uncle today was no different. The longer we spoke outside the crematorium the more his face morphed into my dad's in my mind. I miss that face. Just glancing at the back of his head during the service was like a ghost, albeit a welcome one.
But today was about Madeline. And as I said goodbye as we left the service, I thanked her for her support. I'm sure my dad's thanking her too.