TO DIE FOR

As one gets older, funerals become an increasingly frequent event.

For instance, last week I attended one on Wednesday followed by another on Friday.

The two sides of my family - dad (O'Brien); mum (O'Connor). To be sure, to be sure.

Wednesday was the one I thought would be a miserable affair as my Uncle Noel had not been a favourite in the O'Brien family for many years and was 'off with the fairies' and any visitor of late had been looked on as a potential lover and was given the once-over. He had often gloated re his ability to attract the ladies but no longer had the ability to differentiate when it came to his sister or his nieces.

The fact that he didn't have children to arrange his funeral meant that Kerrie, Aunty Pat's daughter, took over this task.

The service was conducted at the South Chapel in Sutherland Cemetery.

On arriving with Aunty Pat (the surviving member of the O'B clan) I was surprised to find a recording of Uncle Noel singing "What a Wonderful World" and photos of him and the family shown on a screen.

The eulogy was shared by nieces Kerrie, Jill, Anne and myself giving our respective histories with our uncle and then the President of the Belmore RSL spoke about Noel's involvement as a soldier in WWII and his invaluable contribution to the welfare of the returned soldiers and widows from that period in relation to pensions etc as well as his entertainment value as a singer with various groups around the clubs. The reading of The Ode and the playing of The Last Post was really moving.

The service was followed by family and friends having a 'wake' at the RSL in Sutherland. It was so much fun with lots of photos and stories that it was sad when it was time to leave.

One of the best funerals I have attended.

FRIDAY - Aunty Clarice O'Connor's funeral.

My mother was one of 10 children and Aunty Clarice was married to her closest brother, Bill. They had two children - David and Joanne. David had died a couple of years before so Joanne, her husband Peter and their four children had organised the service.

I was looking forward to seeing some of the 36 nieces and nephews of the O'Connor clan who were scattered around the traps since leaving Cootamundra.

I arrived on my own at St Joseph's Catholic Church in Oatley. I signed the book and proceeded to sit on my own about three rows from the front. After the family arrived the service took on the form of a Requiem Mass which included several readings by grandchildren and a very long sermon by the priest, which I felt had nothing to do with Aunty Clarice but was geared towards the possibility that 'someone' in the church may have needed some preaching. That would be me as I was the only one who didn't attend communion.

There was a recording of Ave Maria sung by David in 1982 at Joanne's wedding which, obviously, brought a few tears from me but I couldn't detect any other sobs around the room. It had been his mother's request that he sing at her funeral but with his pre-demise the recording was used. It was beautiful.

I was still hopeful of meeting up with some of my cousins as events like this turn into quite a good reunion for the family. For the life of me I couldn't see anyone I recognised but was still hopeful when we all (including Aunty Clarice, of course) left the confines of the church and gathered at the hearse for the farewell to the crematorium.

As I had taken the train, I was intending to catch a ride back to Sutherland but had the timetable for the train in case I needed a Plan B. There would have only been about 15 people outside (apart from the immediate family of daughter, son-in-law and four children) so sussing out rels would not have been difficult. But I could not see anyone looking remotely like an O'Connor so I realised that I was the lone representative of that generation.

I waited to speak to Joanne but she was tied up with an old couple who were asking - I kid you not -

'was she still OK upstairs?
so she had all her marbles then?
she knew you and the children?
etc etc

I then touched Joanne's hand and told her I would see her later at the crematorium. She said 'OK, Trish' and then continued with her conversation with the old couple. I was pleased that she recognised me and then I briefly spoke to her two daughters and told them that I was Aunty Rene's daughter. They looked suitable impressed as they watched me walking towards the Railway Station.

I got the train back to Sutherland and walked to the same South Chapel of Wednesday fame, getting a little lost as on foot, and a huge area, my sense of direction was limited. However I still arrived in time for the 'service' as the group of mourners was still outside but now down to about 10 as not everyone goes the full nine yards for a farewell.

I stood with the group but noone paid any attention whatsoever to me so when the priest from St Joseph's invited everyone to go inside I dutifully took my place, again about three rows back. Noone sat with me but that was OK as I could then start reading my rail timetable inside the leaflet about Aunty.

Again we had readings from the four children and the priest plus a eulogy from Joanne which lasted 45 minutes. Quite informative and well presented.

The curtain was then closed and we all gathered again outside the Chapel. There was much chatter and I felt that finally I would be acknowledged as I stood within the group. Not the case. I then spied the sign for the Ladies Toilet and ventured over as my new resolution is never to waste an opportunity to go as one is never sure when the next one will be presented.

After the toilet stop I decided not to attend the afternoon tea advertised for the Forget-Me-Not Cottage (appropriately named for my visit) and walked in the other direction to view some of the graves etc. I didn't walk on the road for the unlikely fear that one of the mourners might offer me a lift to the Cottage and in the process got lost in the acres of memorials. (As Tones would know, I really enjoyed this part of the day).

After about an hour I found the exit road which I hoped led me away from the Cottage and worked my way back to the train station and my trip home.