Posted by: k | September 10, 2009

Strange Happenings and a Funeral

The funeral was held yesterday. It was a really nice service. I sat in the front row, holding Matt’s hand, dabbing at my eyes and looking sideways at him to see how he was holding up.

Waiting two weeks for the funeral has really taken its toll. I’m glad that she has now been laid to rest. As yet, we don’t know where in the cemetry she is. Apparently, it’s a massive site, and we’re waiting to be given a map of where she has been buried.

Matt said to me last night that he feels guilty. Guilty because he isn’t feeling much emotion from his mother’s death. He feels like he is disrespecting her because he isn’t devastated and crying. I know it’s because it still doesn’t seem real. It felt real for me, yesterday, at the funeral. He did cry, a bit, but he hasn’t broken. I’m waiting. He will crack, he needs to. And I’ll be here.

Now, I would like to note, with irony, the events that unfolded before the service.

Matt’s eldest brother has a 1979 Toyota Corolla. The biggest bucket of shit I have ever seen. He purposely has the bonnet and door panels different colours. I’m sure that the car is more bog than metal. It has died, and yet been resurrected, many, many times over. It has more lives than a cat. More than a dozen cats. I’ve heard that once a car is 30 years old, it becomes a classic. This car — is a classic heap of shit.

When we arrived at the chapel, there were 5 or six guys under the bonnet of this car. We knew that something was wrong with it, because something is always wrong with it.

The car had decided that it was sick of living, as when David pulled into the carpark, there were FLAMES coming from under his bonnet. FLAMES. The bloody car was on fire! The fire was extinguished, but the car wouldn’t start.

The bigger irony, is that David had been putting off buying a new fuel filter. He finally bit the bullet and bought one, and fitted it. The new filter had a plug, as it was designed for a couple of different models. Said plug fell out, spurting fuel under the bonnet, causing the fire.

We all joked, including David, that the car had come to the right place to die. It was said that now that “Mum’s Taxi” had lost its primary purpose, it had given up.

We’re positive that Kathy had something to do with this. She was there, watching, laughing, before we headed inside to farewell her.


Back at the wake, David, two of his mates, and the faded red shitheap were nowhere to be seen… until it pulled up in the driveway of its own accord.

The car lives. AGAIN.



  1. Okay the title of this post is a little morbid, but I do like the story. It’s always nice when something happens during a difficult time that makes you think that it happened for a reason. I’m pretty sure Kathy would have found it humerous!

  2. I know funerals aren’t meant to be funny, but sometimes it’s moments like that drawing you together and making you feel like maybe, just maybe, it’s going to be okay.

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