Robert Fisk, who has incurable bowel cancer, has posed a question he admits he cannot answer: how many people will attend his funeral? In a personal reflection, he notes that it's not rhetorical, but unanswerable definitively, as he'll be in an overpriced wooden box while mourners sing Jerusalem.
One funeral attended
Fisk has only ever been to one funeral, for a great man, where the town shut down for the procession. Coaches came from various parts of the country, the church was standing room only, and he was a blubbering mess. For his own funeral, he always thought you could count mourners on one hand—that was his view for at least 30 years.
A week of lunches changes perspective
This week, he's mostly been thinking that 10 people will turn up in their Sunday best, as someone reads a eulogy about how he did his best to make lives better and bring laughter. The change from five to ten came after a week of lunches, rare with no hospital appointments for his cancer.
On Monday, he met a friend and his wife he hadn't seen for 18 years, at their old training university, doing sights in London and meeting their two children. Tuesday brought a Pizza Express lunch with two former colleagues, where the vegetarian menu wasn't as expected. Wednesday was a chill day at home. Thursday saw a fancier London lunch with two work colleagues, prompting a collared shirt. Saturday was a road trip to Beefy Boys burger place in Shrewsbury with a long-time friend and his daughter, where he over-customised his meal.
Realising genuine friendship
Of all these people, only one will definitely come to his funeral, but he sticks with 10, not six, because everyone wanted to be there and was happy to see him. In a world where people might be nice due to his cancer, it's great to realise those who liked him before still do, for who he is, not because of the cells killing him. Cancer was a minor topic, as everything else is more interesting.
The friend he hadn't seen for 18 years said they shouldn't leave it so long next time. Fisk confidently says they can't, as he'll be dead by then. By 2044, his funeral will have been and gone, and he'll exist only in memories and the Daily Express's archive.
