Under the anodyne white light of the chapel, electronic organ music oozed from somewhere and mum’s coffin moved slowly towards the curtains at the back. She believed that when she died she’d go straight to heaven and into the arms of Jesus. The vicar had just said so too.
So what about the Bible and the Creed? They spoke of a Judgement Day when Christ would return in glory to call us back from the grave and admit us to heaven or cast us into hell. And where would that leave my mum’s small heap of ashes? Once you started, the doubts, the questions, just kept on coming.
Afterwards, I thanked the vicar and shook his hand. What did he really think and believe? He’d been doing it for so long maybe he didn’t care any more. Let him get home to his tea.
And let my mum rest in the arms of Jesus. Or whatever.