Flight of the Bumblebee

Today, my Grandad made his last public appearance at his funeral. It was held at a new cemetery not too far from where I live and seemed a really beautiful, open, fresh, peaceful place with a lake where trees are planted with plaques for the deceased.

A real nice crowd turned up including over 30 fellow beekeepers, 4 teachers (including Head) from the school where he taught bee-keeping, friends and neighbours, past and present, family of course.

They had managed to find these photos by contacting an Essex-based magazine who had published these photos with an interview with Grandad some while ago (mind you, he was in the local paper and on BBC Radio Essex with Ken Crowther a few times in the past so there were other places that had taken photos) and they were projected from screens in the Crematorium and on the front of really lovely order of services, along with a picture of him as a young bespectacled lad of 30ish on the back with honeybees dotted here and there.

The service was not religious, as my Grandfather was not religious, but it had some nice elements to it.  After the bringing in of his casket (which I found very humbling- it looked so small for such a tall man) and a welcome, we sang Morning has broken which has very fitting lyrics for a man who loved nature so much, which I accompanied on the keyboard.  After this, my cousin came and read a poem which was lovely.

After this, I came up to play a piece which my Grandad had commissioned me to write some 16 years ago. He was SUCH a clever man and had a plan for me to write a 20minute long piece for full symphony orchestra and singer details of which he wrote to me in a 5-page long letter with intricate details and ideas for inspiration.  I started the said piece at the time, writing the overture and various sequences and sections for it but never completing it, it being an huge task and one that was quite exciting but daunting and of course, life, other musical committments got in the way.  Oh how I wished I had finished it for him. I spoke about it and then played the extracts from it on the keyboard.

My Mum, then my sister and then a fellow bee-keeper came up and gave talks about him.  All three were touching, funny, and a real tribute to the amazing man he was.  My Mum, talking about him, showed how intelligent he was, all the classes he enrolled in after retirement, including, Russian, violin-making, Welsh, microbiology, yoga and many more (I, who always has regarded him as one of the most active people I know was shocked at the list), talked about his time as a Civil Servant at the Employment office (from 1949 until retirement) and an amazing anecdote about how he met Fred Astaire through his work and suggested to him that he use an English ballet company for An American in Paris rather than 'importing' dancers from abroad, since it would be much easier.  My sister's talk was of her memories of him and her first comment, that she never considered him to be an 'old person' struck me so much.  That was so true- he wasn't ever old- he was so active, enthusiastic, amazing.  Then the bee-keeper spoke. She had only known him for 9 years and it was him who got her into bee-keeping. She'd met him at a County show and her daughter had told him (he was representing his division of the Essex Beekeepers) she wanted to be a bee-keeper.  He introduced her to someone who was selling some equipment, got her a swarm to look after and then continued to support her, teaching her everything about bee-keeping. She'd phoned him most days to ask advice, he'd often phone her to tell her something and her grandaughter (who always wanted to speak to him on the phone) actually thought he was a giant bee! Possibly due to the first time she saw him being in his netted faced suit.  She really really seemed to care about him and it represented one of many conversations I had later.

At this point, this was when the curtains closed on his coffin and to accompany it, my sister and I played Rimsky-Korsakov's Flight of the Bumblebee.   I had managed to hold it together all the way through the service but as I stood there waiting to start, it was hard to keep it together but that I had to do for this very very hard piece for him- he was my staunchest supporter as a musician. He had come to more performances of mine than anyone else, he who was a supportive, delighted critic.  My sister, managed to play whilst her eyes and nose dripped all over the piano.

After waiting outside and being greeted by people who really really loved him, we headed to a pub near his house for some food and drinks. So many people spoke to me expressing their love for him.  A whole gaggle of lady beekeepers between around 35-60 talked to me and all had told me they were his proteges, they all phoned him regularly to ask him advice and how to do things.  Each one told me he was the kindest, most intelligent and most patient and helpful person they knew, always ready to offer advice, encourage, support and offer a great perspective.  It was a lovely time to see my family, including my cousins who I have not seen for so long, see these friends and know how much he was and still is loved. I loved hearing tales and only wish I had talked to him more of his amazing life, and learnt to be what he was myself.

Don't be sad that I have died
Be glad that I lived.


I haven't said all I want to about him, this is just a summary of the day only.  His life has so much to celebrate and talk about but I love the above: A fitting tribute to this giant bee as he makes his final flight.