Bear blog

I went to my uncle's funeral on Friday which of itself wasn't too bad. There was a scary woman who told us all when to sit and stand and get out all very sternly. She had a hat like Oliver Twist's. And the priest person was really old and doddery. He had a hearing aid and a walking stick and I took the time whilst he was praying to contemplate how every funeral he did must have been one more quiet victory for him. While we were leaving they played country & western music (cause apparently that's what my uncle liked) and his friends from work had had this fantiastic bouquet done up like a bus. He was a bus driver.

I saw lots of people I hadn't seen for years too and remarked upon how alike everyone on that side of my family is. It makes you feel like you belong. Then at the wake Baby Reb kept everyone amused by being cute and Grandad got his first hold of her. He seemed pleased enough. But then my aunt was talking about how it was still all a shock and how she kept opening draws and seeing my uncle's stuff everywhere and how she found herself just wandering around the house. And that was quite sad.

Then we went back to visit Nan and Grandad for a bit and I realised that my Nan has turned, inexplicably, into one of those little old ladies I used to see what I was working with Social Services. One of those frail little things who's slowly caving in on herself. And that was quite sad too. She's been saying for the past twenty years that she wished she'd hurry up and die but now it seems like quite an imminent prospect. Which will be alright for her but quite upsetting for everyone else. To get out of their house you have to leave Nan's room and go through a room with all her paintings on the walls. And some of them are amazing. It's hard to reconcile the little old thing in her chair with the stuff that's on the walls. And then you consider the circularity of things and realise that my artistic bent probably comes from her and suddenly there's my own life laid out before me, and you have to wonder at how helplessly redundant everything is.

Over the weekend, interspersed with a bit of juggling, we watched Star Wars episodes 2 and 3 which got me further contemplating the pointlessness of things. Yoda tells Anakin that fear of loss is the path to the Dark Side and really none of it would have happened if Anakin hadn't formed his attachments to his mum or to Padme. Life would be a lot easier to bear (or not bear, depending on personal preference) if we weren't attached to people. It's compassion that makes it all so pointless.

Why couldn't he have just listened to Obi Wan?