I heard back from Paul, Lyn’s brother, yesterday. I had messaged him a few days ago, but it probably just took him a bit to get back to me. Lyn’s funeral took place on May the Sixth, and was a small family event; her ashes are going to be spread at Eltham Cemetery. It relieved me to be told that a bit: of course I’m heartbroken that I couldn’t go to the funeral, but there is going to be a larger commemoration of Lyn’s life later in the year, and Eltham Cemetery is a short, pleasant walk from my new home, so I’ll be able to visit her, so to speak.
However, rolling there yesterday afternoon, I found the cemetery gates shut and locked: you can currently only visit at weekends. Sat there, in front of that notice in my powerchair, I felt like crying: Lyn my best ever friend, the most amazing person I’ll ever meet, was dead, and not only could I not attend her funeral, I couldn’t visit the place where her remains are. It was a bleak, desperate feeling. To be honest for a few moments, I’d have given anything for a cuddle from my Mum or Dad.
But they weren’t there. Due to corronavirus I am prevented from seeing them, just as the virus prevented me from attending Lyn’s funeral or going in to the cemetery. Yet it’s somehow alright, according to this government, for a public official to drive 200 miles for no good reason, even though he was infected. Sorry, but watching this snivelling piece of scum justify himself last night, blatantly lying his head off, just hours after I had felt probably the bleakest emotion I had ever experienced, made my blood boil with rage. Do they not realise what the rest of us are going through, or do these people just not give a fuck?