Three pews were full of her daughter’s friends, with her friends and family filling the pews and spilling out into the hall. Her very elegant friend played a saxaphone, leading the coffin which was held high on the shoulders of 6 men – family and friends who loved her deeply. Jane, beautiful and silver-haired (who later confessed ‘I’m terribly old’), played a lullaby on a 300-year-old violin at the committal. The violin trembled. And this poem:

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glad.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the vales of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavement grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

W B Yeats

It was a beautiful goodbye – warm, filled with love and friends, stylish and joyful as she was.
And a desperately sad ending to a too-short story.

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