Spongebobs & Patricks

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellow,

I am writing this as my dad's funeral takes place on the telly. And if that sounds disrespectful then I should clarify that the church which is live-streaming it has TERRIBLE wi-fi. Basically, there's a lot of buffering and I'm only catching every other sentence. 

So it's hard to be respectful. And in fact right now Caro is subverting the whole thing by gossiping about the congregation. "Ooh, that blonde lady has nice hair. I wonder if that person next to her with the purple hair is an old person or a random emo."

I will have to re-watch tomorrow. Not because of Caro but because I really wanted to hear what my sister and nieces had to say. I caught some of it and it sounded lovely. Tups gave a potted history of my dad and Abi gave a eulogy in which she talked about my dad's love of his cat, Loki. Then she tied it all together beautifully by saying that just as my dad held his front door open for that mog in all weathers, he opened his heart to everyone as well. 

Awwww....

Libby talked about cake. About my dad's love of it, which I may have mentioned more than once. "There is nothing cake can't fix," he told her. And as she's baked up a storm for his wake, I'm glad that she took his advice to heart. 

I listened to her affectionate eulogy and broke out a Battenberg in dad's honour. I am eating it now. 

I remember he told me how he loved feeding the girls Battenberg when they were just little. They referred to it as "Spongebobs and Patricks" he told me, with a gleam of pure love in his eye. 

I don't know why I didn't forget that. It's just one of those things. 

And maybe it's the importance of moments like that which allows me to overlook the fact that I can't be there. That I'm sat here, watching a wheel on my telly go around and watching a compromised version of his final send-off. 

I don't think the final send-off is anywhere near as important as Spongebobs and Patricks. Nowhere near as important as a moment when my dad let me know how much he loved Abi and Libby. 

All the same, Caro has FOMO. I know this because she just told me. It's my own fault. An elderly man got up to speak at one point and I happened to mention that the frail old fellow is a drag queen. 

"NO he's NOT! Is he REALLY?!? THAT guy???" she asked. 

I assured her it was true.

"WHY WASN'T I TOLD ABOUT THIS???" she blurted. 

I told her I only found out myself last month. She was partly mollified but now she wants to be in Yorkshire, checking out the old fellow for eyelash-glue and glitter, I expect. 

And I'm sure she'd be checking out whether that person with the purple hair is an emo or not too*. 

Personally, I don't mind being here. While I would dearly love to hug my sister and nieces, being at home allows me to have a cup of tea and a slice of Battenberg next to me. 

Dad would approve. 

There is nothing cake can't fix. 

S.

* UPDATE: Turns out it was my cousin Gillian, who is in her 60's but rockin' the purple hair.