This is a post just for me. Self-indulgent, but one I want to write, and therefore will make no apology for.  Read it if you will, or skip it, I don't mind in the least.

A few weeks ago, my cousin, age 47, died suddenly of a massive heart attack.  He was, to all intents and purposes healthy, fit and well, and living a relatively stress-free and blameless, childless life filled with friends, family and pursuing his own interests which included photography, ecology and a massive restoration project for which he was well known and respected.

Bizarre.  And a very dark time for his parents, my Aunt and Uncle, who are still very much alive and kicking.  No one should attend the funeral of their own child.  And it was vile in that sense, but a good funeral (in my thankfully limited experience).  It seems he had loads of friends - which apparently surprised my Aunt and Uncle, who thought he was a very quiet and private person.  It was of some comfort to them,  I would imagine that there was standing room only at the back on the day of the funeral.  His best friend from childhood gave a eulogy talking about Pollyanna, and played the Glad Game which was very touching.  The vicar, who said although Tim (my cousin) was not religious, he respected Christian beliefs, and the service was so thoughtfully and sincerely given, I thought that he had known him personally, but it seems he has only met with my Aunt and Uncle a few times recently about the funeral.  He talked about immortality being seen in the ways a person has touched your life - maybe in things they have said to you or in experiences you have had with them.  I am sure these are bog standard things to be said at funerals, but I can see that there is some comfort to be drawn from them in the future. Now there's a bloke who's good at his job. 

This is my fathers side of the family who live in Bristol, (about an hour or so away from us)  and although we have not seen much of them over the years, I like them a lot, and found my cousin a profound and interesting bloke.  On the day I shed tears, mostly because I was sitting in the row behind my Uncle, whom I like and respect enormously, and he was visibly heartbroken by having to attend his son's funeral. 

When I came home I looked on the internet out of interest at the project my cousin had been involved in - The Kings Weston Action Group - and I was bowled over by his involvement and his apparent popularity - and by his photographic skills which I stumbled across on his Flickr photostream.  I wish I had kept up a correspondence with him over the years.  I would have loved to have followed this project, and been a regular commenter on his photos.

I don't think there is anything I can say to end this post which can capture my feelings about this.  So there is this, the front of the order of service which my Uncle produced, because he is clever like that.

Edited to add: Thank you for the thoughtful comments I received on this post.  I have not published them as it felt unseemly to do so.  But I am glad of the kindness shown in your words.