Family Fortitude

Only my father would orchestrate his funeral to be during the French air traffic strike. A sort of endurance test for his children and grandchildren. The aim was to get all of us to L’horte on the one day Toulouse airport decided to be picky about which planes were going to land. The family Whatsapp resembled a sort of air traffic control centre directing siblings from New York, London (one of those went via Frankfurt), Bristol and the Shetlands. My sister became somewhat addicted to watching Flight Tracker, thankfully no games console was involved. Even Callum and I didn’t escape the hurdles. Having got a cancellation text the day before flying and nowhere near a computer and unable to disturb Cal at college, I forwarded the dreaded words to my internet savvy son. By the time I got home, he’d booked the only available flight which was leaving in about 5 hours. We stuffed a suitcase, got in an over-priced taxi and sped to the airport and L’horte.

Well Pop, we did it. Thanks to the Collins fortitude and adventurous spirit, the last one of us was picked up as dawn rose Friday morning. And despite the hours and for my younger brother, days, of check ins and queues going nowhere, suited and booted we stood together to say goodbye. Well, you have to excuse Kate. Her style is uniquely Kate and you wouldn’t have expected anything else. The ceremony was short and full of your favourite music just the way you like such occasions and we made healthy in-roads into your wine collection afterwards. Ok, maybe that was less approved of but you have great taste as do we. Obviously.

Luckily we all made it back to our various global residences yesterday, eventually. I mean, what is a little strike chaos between the Collins’? And we’ll be back in a week or so to celebrate Christmas with the brood. Although this time I’m driving…..

I wrote a poem for my Pop and read it at his funeral. I titled it

“Always There”

In the dusky early morning light,  
Dogs weave through trees just in sight.
On ground so green through years of care,
A man in thought, I see you there.

Diamond sparkled water in evening sun,
A man and river unite as one.
No sound but that of the heron's cry,
But I hear you through L'horte's lazy sigh.

Thus as the days and evenings fade,
On land so loved, your ashes laid.
Your presence in our hearts to keep,
So rest now our Pop in peaceful sleep.