I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day - Milly Johnson Page 0,125

homage to Charlie. The laughter he generated while speaking gave him the strength he needed to carry on talking. Funny, touching, sad, hard to listen to in places, Charlie Glaser emerged as the best humanity could mould. There were quite a few references to his cholesterol levels too.

‘And just in case you’re wondering at my song choice as we walked in – well Charlie’s song choice actually, because him being him, he had planned his own funeral down to the letter – it’s because he loved Christmas and if he could have had it, he would have lived every day as if it were Christmas Day. When he knew he wouldn’t be here for another one, he wanted his last one to be full of snow,’ said Robin, his voice catching.

He stalled for a few moments, took back control. ‘So I booked a five star hotel in Aviemore, every luxury you could think of, but we ended up having to take refuge in an old inn on the Yorkshire moors. There were six of us holed up for four days. I was livid. Imagine, when you know this is going to be the last Christmas you have together and you’ve got champagne and canapés waiting for you in Scotland…’ He left a long pause, smiled. ‘But we couldn’t have wished for a merrier Christmas. We couldn’t have wished for richer company, for kinder people, for better fun and feasting than we had. We left for Aviemore with Charlie trying his best to hide his pain from me and yet he spent Boxing Day lying in the snow flapping his limbs making angels, building a snowman and pelting snowballs. Christmas magic – it had to be. He ate too much, he certainly drank too much… he lived those last days to the full. He died healthier than I’ve seen him for well over a year.’

A sweet wave of laughter rolled around the church, took in everyone.

‘On that last morning, Charlie told me he’d discovered the meaning of life, the point of it all.’

He left a dramatic break before enlightening everyone.

‘He said that there wasn’t one.’

Laughter again. From people who knew Charlie well enough to believe Robin’s words.

‘Charlie said that the point of life is living, here and now, being present in the moment. Watching a concert with your eyes, not trying to film it on a phone; living in a real world, not a virtual one, squeezing the juice out of every second, enjoying this journey for however long it lasts. Charlie took chances and he took risks; sometimes he failed, sometimes he succeeded and the successes more than made up for the failures. He always said that ships were never built to sit safely in harbours, they were meant for adventures and exploring. Never sailing into the open meant you were saved the storms, but you’d never find the beautiful tropical islands, the white sands, the blue lagoons.

‘Charlie didn’t need to be in anyone’s life for very long before he made an impact. There are some people in this church who only knew him for those last few days, but what days they were. And people didn’t need to be in Charlie’s life for very long before he got the measure of them. He saw everyone as diamonds. Some cut and perfect, some needing a little shaping and polish, the others – cubic zirconia. He didn’t bother with those, he could spot a fake from a mile off. He was a craftsman of jewellery and people.

‘I just want to say thank you to you all for your friendship and love. Thank you for your kindness to Charlie. And if you were with him on those last days, I know Charlie would like to thank you for the cholesterol.’

‘Cholesterol!’ someone barked. One of their friends who was party to the joke, it seems.

‘Charlie did say he’d try and attend the funeral,’ Robin went on. ‘He said he wouldn’t arrive as a butterfly or a robin. We did discuss banana skins and cherries but he said he’d prefer to come back as freak weather. So if this sunshine gives way to a whirlwind, blame him, not the weathermen, for the bum forecast.’

The end of Robin’s speech was greeted by a hushed silence, then a stray tentative clap as if unsure whether it was the done thing in church. Bridge backed it up with a clap of her own, Mary followed, as did more until everyone was applauding not only Robin, but the