Dressing For a Funeral

Posted by Jules on February 11th, 2009

The snow plough woke me at 4am thundering through the village.  It slowed to circumnavigate the cedar tree in the little triangle of grass outside my window its lights flooding the bedroom as it approached from the south.  I lay half awake with a sense of dread then remembered today was Gray’s funeral.  It had snowed for Gray.

When it was finally time to get up I took three black dresses from my wardrobe and lay them on the bed.  Boots or shoes?  I added a black and white Hermès scarf and my pearls.  I think Graham would have approved although in the grey light of early morning it all looked a bit contrite.

“I saw just the hint of a chartreuse bra strap, can you believe it?  Sexy old bird, it made my day.”  Graham had once told me about an older female friend with whom he had lunched.  Chartreuse was such a Graham word. 

So I took out my La Perla underwear.  He would have appreciated that too.  Not that we were each other’s type.

“I thought you’d be taller,” he’d said to me barely disguising his disappointment when we’d first met.

“I thought you’d be thinner,” I’d replied.

Living in Switzerland, Most Popular Posts 9 Comments

Jules said,

February 13, 2009 @ 8:32 am

I know it is really naff commenting on your own site especially the first comment! But I’m wondering if telling the world what knickers I wore to Graham’s funeral was a good idea…I’m just an insecure ninny, anyone out there?

Elisabeth Loesch said,

February 13, 2009 @ 2:30 pm

Hi Julie. Remember me? We attended Robert McKee’s genre seminar in London a few years ago. I don’t think your comment is naff at all. You’re grieving the loss of a friend. I think that what you are trying to do is to wrap this sad turn of event in something pretty to make it look acceptable. It’s sweet and I think that Graham would have indeed appreciated the intention. The truth is that with each loss that we experience, we are faced with our own mortality. It is so scary that we try to look for a comfort zone, something that makes us cling to our humanity. Wear pretty underwear for as long as you need to. The day you start reaching for that old pair of yoga pants, you’ll be on the road to recovery.

Best wishes.

Elisabeth

Jawahara said,

February 14, 2009 @ 10:45 am

Was this Graham Harris of ghinch.com? We had connected through our blogs and talked a couple of times on the phone. We were hoping to meet soon. He seemed like such an interesting and fun person. Today for some reason I went to his site after a long time, and the first thing I did was to click on your link for the first time and came upon this post. My condolences to you and to his other friends and family. Very sad!

Jules said,

February 14, 2009 @ 10:38 pm

Jawahara: Yes Graham passed away last week following his operation. Thank you.

Elisabeth: Babette?! Welcome! I don’t think I’m trying to make it into something pretty but trying to still stay connected to that person. I think the day I reach for that old pair of yoga pants I will have lost it! The older I get the more expensive my underwear – now Graham would definitely have appreciated that. Thanks for commenting and for your kind remarks, I don’t feel so naff now.

Nadia said,

February 15, 2009 @ 7:42 pm

Hi Jules,

I meant to send you a personal comment to say how much I loved this post, and how perfect it was for Graham, and what great writing it was…

I found myself wondering if Graham really knew that chartreuse was a shade of yellow-green, or just that it was a wierd colour?

I also thought that he’d have appreciated your wearing black for him, and that underwear, definitely.

So having trouble actually putting into words what all this made me feel, I’m now late so I’ll just say it in public.

I cried and I laughed and it’s perfect.

Thank you.

xxxN.

Martin said,

February 16, 2009 @ 8:01 am

For once, I am almost at a loss for words. I never had the pleasure of being able to meet Graham but thoroughly enjoyed both his own blog and his posts to Jules’ blog.

His “un – PC” view of the World certainly brought a smile to my face and, I am sure, to that of many others.

He will be both remembered and missed.

Jules said,

February 16, 2009 @ 9:53 am

Nadia, this is so lovely of you. I had such a struggle with this post fearing that I had grief-brain. As an ad man Graham new his colour chart so he would have been spot on with the chartreuse, no old ladies knicker drawer colours for him with their wiff of stale talcum powder. I’m touched that I touched you and salute you for going public.

Moving on to Martin who steers ever so cleverly away from the knicker issue. Thank you for this. I was meaning to get you two together at the next lunch. Who is that Martin bloke? he used to ask me, I think you represented a bit of a challenge.

Elna said,

February 18, 2009 @ 2:05 am

Jules– I’ve been off the website and just checked on Graham. I am a friend of Graham’s and late wife, Ruth. We were very good friends back in 1975-1978– and beyond. We lived in Genthod. Do you have Dan or Lucie’s email or address?? OH MY GOD– what was the surgery?? PLEASE– he has so many USA friend who will mourn and want to express sympathy to the children.

Jules said,

February 18, 2009 @ 5:33 pm

I will contact you Elna via your email, I don’t have the children’s contact details but I have a good friend’s telephone number who could probably put you in contact with them.

RSS feed for comments on this post · TrackBack URI


Leave a Comment