The question of the funeral and burial arose. Philip’s body was not going to be available for a whole week, until after the post-mortem in Birmingham. We drove to ‘Elements’, the undertakers in nearby Pinner who had buried my parents, Pam’s parents and my grandmother. We saw a chirpy girl and a man in a dreadful bright shirt and yellow bow tie. Somehow he faded into the background to be replaced by a sober “Martin”, who eventually allowed us to call him “Mr Bradley”. Leaving the shop, passing from behind the tinted glass to the bright sunlit strees, was leaving the real world for an illusionary one. By Tuesday, Philip had been delivered from Birmingham and we saw him in one of the cells off the corridor at the back of the undertakers’ shop: The sixth time that I had been there. He was lying in a coffin. We went in and touched him. Sometimes alone and sometimes in groups. Jonathan looked for signs of breathing, Pam had to open his eyes to make certain he was dead. She found his ear lobes soft and flexible. I took Joanna’s hand in mine and laid it on Philip’s face. She couldn’t manage it any other way. His girlfriend Natasha went to see him the following day. She went alone. Brave of her. The funeral arrangements absorbed the time with lists, endlessly rewritten and rechurned. Several visits were made to arrange the printing of the Order Of Service. The vicar wanted to alter "St Anselm's Church" to "The Parish Church of St Anselm." Pam and I drove to Mrs Steffanoti for her to alter the clothing Pam was to wear; Mrs Roskilly and daughter were asked to provide refreshments after the funeral; The Vicar was consulted about the precise format of the service; Pam's cousin's husband (a clergyman) was asked to assist in the Service; Mrs Cracknell was asked to arrange the flowers; The notice in the Daily Telegraph was inserted: "DAVIES on March 18th. suddenly at the University of Birmingham, Philip Walter, aged 21. Very much loved younger son of Pamela and Geoffrey and brother to Joanna, Sally and Jonathan. A happy, loving and caring son he will be greatly missed. Funeral service at St. Anselm's Church, Hatch End, at 12 noon, on Friday March 31st. Flowers to the family home, or if preferred, donations to St Luke's Hospice, c/o Elements, Pinner, Middlesex". In the misery, we felt that we were providing a funeral instead of a wedding for Philip. Four people agreed to read little informal bits about Philip at the funeral. Mr.Whittaker, a member of staff from Haberdasher's, Mark, the spokesman from his house at Birmingham, Nick, a friend from school, and Natasha. Originally we assumed that Anton who, when younger had been Philip's closest friend, would read a tribute. He visited us however to say that he had to decline, the form of Judaism he had recently adopted did not permit him to be under the same roof as a dead body other than that of his mothers. I was very upset. He did, in fact, attend the funeral, but could only wait on the pavement outside. We all went to see Philip for a last time. I bent down and looked under the coffin to find that it was but chipboard. We had an agonised discussion. Mr Bradley showed us some other coffins heaped in a room that was little more than a walk-in cupboard but they were not very different. He said that whilst it was his job to sell coffins it made no difference to Philip who, he believed, was now in a better place. He told us of one customer who had insisted on an elm coffin but delicately let us feel that it was better if we did nothing. Mr Bradley sat in his office while Pam and I whispered in the corridor as night fell. We asked him to photograph Philip. We asked him to let us have a lock of his hair. We left with our other children as Mr Bradley locked the door, going home leaving Philip behind. I showered carefully on the day of the funeral, scrubbing my toenails under the shower. Cleanliness seemed important. I could remember the same impulse at my parents' funerals. I went to the church to check all was well. The flowers Mrs Cracknell had arranged were beautiful. I was anxious that the trestles on which Philip's coffin would lie were too close to the front row of seating, obstructing the passage of those who were going to read from the lectern. Mr Sherwood who was there supervising dissuaded me from altering the position of the bier. He was quite right. Back home our neighbour, Mr Bearman, an irascible man whom I have loved since he broke into tears when I told him of Philip's death, asked if he could help in any way. We set him to listing the names of those who had sent flowers to our house. Relatives assembled and we waited and waited. The hearse came only too soon and we left for the St. Anselm's. The church was full. It is sinful to wish for a full congregation but I had encouraged people to come. Relatives, friends from Pam's French group, staff and Philip's friends from Haberdasher's, some people from Pinner Methodist church where Philip had been to the Sunday school and friends of Philip from Birmingham. Some friends of mine came. I wish I had valued them more in the past. Henry Guy came, he is a partner in Neville Russell, our work auditors, but I do not believe he came with commercial considerations in mind. It was not possible not to cry. We followed the coffin into the church and sat on the left hand side at the front, in the rows Mr. Sherwood had marked off with a soft red rope. We sang as we entered, "He who would valiant be, 'Gainst all disaster" The Vicar pronounced the Greeting. I read from Isaiah and said a prayer I had composed myself and repeat every night since, in some form or other. Jonathan read 1 Corinthians 13 followed by a poem. Then we sang our favourite hymn starting; Lord the light of your love is shining In the midst of the darkness shining Jesus light of the world come upon us Set us free by the truth you now bring us Shine on me, Shine on me. With the magnificent repeating refrain: Shine Jesus Shine Fill this land with the Father's glory Blaze Spirit blaze Set our hearts on fire Flow river flow Flood the nations with grace and mercy Send forth your word Lord, and let there be light. We sang loudly and with tears. Pam's cousin is married to Canon Edwin Barnes and he read the Gospel reading. The Vicar gave an address, saying at some point that Philips death was God's will. We sang "The day thou gavest, Lord is ended" and the Intercessions followed. We sang " Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy" The Eucharistic Prayer, the Lords Prayer came and went. Mass started and the communicants came, slowly at first and then in a steady stream that I hoped would never end. Some came holding a hymn book for a blessing but most took the bread and wine. The hymn, "Thine be the glory risen conquering Son" preceded what we had described in the Order of Service as, "Words from Friends". Mr Whittaker looked uncomfortable as he read. Nick swayed as he spoke, at one point he said "I almost expect Phil to jump out from the curtain behind me". Mark, in his Essex/East London accent had prepared well. He posted the text to us later. Natasha was tearful but composed. The Commendation and Farewell passed. The Vicar and Edwin Barnes motioned to Pam and I to come forward at the end and sprinkle water on the coffin. We did, rather awkwardly. Even then, it was possible to be inhibited by embarrassment. We followed the coffin out of the church singing "And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England's Mountains green?" Alone outside wearing a smart suit stood Anton, he had not moved from his sentry position outside the main door. It was nice to think of someone standing guard. On the front of the order of service we had printed the following: When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. It was attributed to an author with an Arabic name which we had omitted. The Vicar asked us where we had got it from. A friend of Jonathan's had suddenly died the year before and his funeral had included those words, now passed on along a chain of grief. What Philip will think of his funeral service, I cannot think. It worries me that he did not live long enough to begin to trust the mysteries of Christianity. The penultimate time we saw him was at the funeral of my Aunt Lily, who experienced a humanist funeral. To our daughters, Pam and I, it was a bleak, barren affair. Philip and Jonathan liked it, admiring I suspect, its cold courage. I pray that I may be permitted to atone for Philip's rejection of Christ which, if he had lived, I am sure would not have persisted. Leaving the Church the cortege drove through the Hatch End shops and turned left along St Thomas's Drive, taking the same route that my parents have travelled and I suppose, Pam and I, shall. The internment was quick. The grave was very deep. I was shocked to see Philip lying so far below. So was Pam. She referred to it later. I sought to console her by saying "think of him as being safe there". By the time we had finished we could still see people and cars streaming in through the cemetery gates below. I both wanted to hurry on and to wait for them to come and see the open grave. But I turned away saying "God be with you my boy". My parents and grandmother are buried in Pinner New Cemetery (Pam's parents were both cremated). Their funerals were arranged by the undertakers and the burial plots allocated without reference to the mourners. We did not know where my father would be interred until the hearse arrived at the cemetery. It was simply assumed that my mother would lie with my father. I went to the cemetery the morning of her funeral, saw a young man digging her grave and asked "do a good job". With Philip it was different. Joanna, Jonathan and I went to see the proposed burial site in advance and did not feel it appropriate. It was low lying, inclined to be marshy, perhaps would allow for only one burial and was very close to the chain link fence dividing it from a school playground. It may be a sin, but I did not like to think of Philip lying dead while other children cavorted so close. Sai Baba would say that my love for Philip is possessive love and lacking in love. There was in fact one nice corner site with a bench and a tree but this was thought to be assigned. Prior to Philip's death, Sally had booked this week off from work to look at possible reception venues for her wedding in the summer. Instead we were looking for possible burial sites. We drove to Harrow Weald Cemetery where the Superintendent of Harrow local authority cemeteries had his office and found that Philip could be buried there, closer to home, but not on a route we went along much and away from his grandparents and great grandmother. Not in any case a particularly attractively sited burial plot. The superintendent had a plan of Pinner New Cemetery. There were alternatives. Perhaps he could be buried with my parents? Some graves will take two people, some just one person and some as many as three. He would find out. There were places available higher on the hill but they were in Section M, an area designated as "lawn" which meant there were restrictions on monuments. We drove to have a look and found Mrs Barber there. Just a week earlier, while Philip lived, I had heard of the death of her eleven year old Emma who had unexpectedly died while undergoing an operation by the famous surgeon,Yacoub. Mrs Barber had chosen the plot in preference to the children's section which was a dark, gloomy tree enclosed area containing graves with strange names. She was very glad she had come to look at the cemetery. We liked the idea of Philip being close to Emma so we told the superintendent we would like to choose a plot in Section M. There was a minor problem as the area had still to be dedicated but fortunately the vicar said this was just a two minute ceremony he could perform immediately before the burial. Graves in the London Borough of Harrow's cemeteries are leased with an exclusive right of burial for fifty years. One can lease a plot for ten years without making use of it and with permission renew the lease for a further period. So we leased three other plots, one to the left and two to the right of Philip's. The superintendent made it easy for us to change our minds saying it was expensive and he would delay putting the papers through to give us an opportunity for reflection, but I am glad we went ahead. Pam and I will, I suppose, be buried with Philip. What the others will want to do in due course, remains open. The funeral cars bought us back to the house. Mrs Roskilly and her team had food and drink ready served by several women and at least two men. I stood by the door, hugging women and shaking men by the hand. Most I did not recognise. A plumpish man introduced himself, "Professor Feldman from the University"; an awkward conversation with a shifty looking Bryn; a girl said "I loved him". Whether Philip's 'new friends' were there, I do not know. No students appeared to fit the description of a 'druggie' although some went into the garden to smoke, I remember clearing up the cigarette butts later.