Mass Aerobics

Well Grandad, I love you dearly even still, and I will go to Mass once a year, every year till the day I die if needs be, and I am genuinely not being irreverent (because my annual visit to Mass is important because of you)

but really ...

...how many times can a group of people stand up, sit down, kneel, sit, stand, sit again, stand again, kneel....throw in a couple of bows, and a number of repetitions of the sign of the cross and I tell you, I think I have done my exercise for the week...

...how many hands do I have to shake as a 'sign of peace' during the service? I shook the hand of my mum, my aunty, 4 people in front of us, 4 people behind us, and just when I thought we had finished, I got a tap on the shoulder for another one! At least Catholics have firm handshakes...

...how much like a Heathen do I have to feel ...the church was full (and its a big church to be fair) and when it came time for Holy Communion only 5 people in the congregation didn't stand to take communion...me (never baptised OR confirmed), my mum (never confirmed), my aunty (different branch of Christianity), my uncle (reasons unknown although I think he is an Aetheist) and my Nan (possibly because we didn't go up and also because she is really struggling to get around). You could almost feel the eyes of the congregation fall upon us....sinners, all of us...

...how often do I have to stop myself from giggling at Father Dunston - dear old man - who loses his train of thought so easily - at least he stayed present on the altar dais this evening instead of going for a wander half way through. This evening, in his reading, fishermen from Galilee cast nets into the sky...he corrected himself, but a lady sat behind us was full of righteous indignation at such a heinous crime as to make a mistake during the delivery of Mass. A strange conversation with nan, Father D. and myself at the end of the service took place - somehow a recollection of the film Bullitt (Steve McQueen) and a stream of consciousness about how easy it is to get lost in Warrington somehow got linked together by F.D. with him asking me every 2 or 3 sentences what it was that he was trying to say ...Nana was trying to edge away I am sure...

...how hard do I have to hold back the tears as soon as I walk into the church because all I can think of is your funeral and of saying goodbye...

Miss you...your candles have been lit ...none of us forget, even those who couldn't be there tonight.

Edit:
Brickmaker's comment made me reflect, and remember that the funeral was equally as irreverent at times.
The men of my family (cousins, brother, uncles) are all quite tall - Grandad was quite small by comparison. As Grandad's coffin was being borne into the church, Father D's radio mike was switched on and we could hear him 'whispering' "down a bit, down a bit" as the coffin was worryingly close to the top of the door frame!
During the service, Uncle Lenny was heard to comment "Vicar, your handbag is on fire" when the insense was being swung around - shortly afterwards he was given a reprimand (a slap across the arm) by the person sat next to him!
And at the end, as Grandad was being carried out, I blurted out "its the first time grandad's had to duck to get through a doorframe" which caused some giggling.

So its no surprise that I find it difficult not to find something to smile about, even when its such a sad situation to remember.