Until recently, my experience of Carlisle Cathedral, a beautiful, red sandstone building dating from the 12th Century had always been joyful; school speech days, musical recitals and occasional attendance at Evensong, celebrated with the music of centuries. So it was with some trepidation that I attended a funeral in that ancient, holy place. That the funeral was for someone my own age who died leaving his wife and 3 teenage children made it all the more poignant. The service was dignified but my heart ached for his family as they walked behind his coffin, bravely shouldered by his teenage son.
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