A short while ago I went to the funeral of the father of one of my close friends.

As is often the case in such situations, the service in Dun Laoghaire combined deep sadness with joy and celebration of the wonderful life Graeme Guthrie lived into his eighties. He was a man of great character and a wry sense of humour, and regularly had letters published in the Irish Times. He was also well known for his extraordinarily beautiful garden, complete with a pond.

In his eulogy, his son spoke of Graeme’s older brother, who he had played with often but who had died while Graeme was still a child. While he loved and was loved by his other siblings, and later the family he had of his own, Graeme had carried the sadness of losing his brother through his life, until he was 70 years old. Then one day by his beautiful garden pond, he imagined sitting his younger self on his knee, and explaining to him the circumstances around his older brother’s death. After that, he felt less sadness about it, as though a cloud had lifted.

Sometimes imagining a conversation with our younger selves can allow us to process something that we never fully understood as children. I think everyone at the funeral felt glad that Graeme found a way to ease the sadness that he had felt for so long. And it was one more lesson learned from a wise and kind man.

His letters to the Irish Times were very popular, and the paper paid tribute to his “funny, beautiful, inquisitive and charming” observations after his death. One of my favourites of his letters was published in May 2022. Like many of the others, it is a very simple note, but strongly evocative and makes me smile.

“The sun is shining, the swifts and swallows are nesting, the cuckoo is calling and the mayflower is in full glorious bloom. The only problem is the grass needs cutting so I will have to get up off the garden chair and switch on the robot mower. So stressful.”