I hope that's my quota fulfilled for the time being and I don't need to go to any more funerals for a good few years.
It couldn't have taken place in a more idyllic location: in a small church just beside the river Tees, in Wycliffe, County Durham. What made it a particularly special day (despite the sad occasion) was the heavy snowfall that was carpeting the countryside with a magical layer of snow. It made the church setting like something out of Thomas Hardy or Dickens - which Wifey's mum would have loved.
It was a very moving and emotionally-charged day. I nearly lost it when the vicar mentioned JKY's birth and how it made my mother-in-law so proud to be a granny - it's just such a shame that she won't be around to see him grow up.
Anyway, one funny story to come out of the day (there has to be at least one - you can't be overly melancholic and miserable at these occasions) is about JKY chatting up a little girl back at the hotel. She was about a month older than him and was with a group of ladies in the lounge unconnected with the wake. The two of them were babbling away in baby speak and seemed to know exactly what each other was saying, which was hilarious. They then proceeded to clean up the whole place with baby wipes, yakking away and being too cute for their own good. The little girl's grandma was so impressed with my lad that she wanted to exchange phone numbers and hook them up in 20 years time (er, I live in Cardiff. Might make things a little tricky!).
That's my boy. A little heartbreaker and he's only 17 months - watch out, ladies!