Funeral in Venice

                         Funeral in Venice

You experience one of the many pleasures of Venice shortly after arriving at the airport. You join the mildly chaotic queues for the various water buses and are eventually filtered onto the correct boat. Then begins the journey that is almost always magical, in spite of the scruffiness of the cabin and the dirtiness of the windows. 

The boat chugs across the Lagoon, where one’s sense of direction easily vanishes amidst all the low lying islands, big and small, deserted or populated. Eventually the reference points of densely built Murano and the City skyline beyond become clear.

I wrote “almost always magical” because the purpose of this latest journey was not to explore the treasures of Venice but to attend the funeral of my cousin, who had died days before from the complications of a rare neurological condition, the cruel effects of which had swiftly changed from the manageable to the lethally devastating.

Our hearts, therefore, were not uplifted on the Lagoon journey.

My cousin and her French husband, Venice residents, had been generous and welcoming hosts to her wider family for many years. They also came to London every Christmas for a big family reunion, the last in 2024. We were all shocked by her rapid decline and death. As many of us who could at 4 days’ notice came out for the funeral.

SS Giovanni e Paolo, where the funeral was held, is one of the largest churches in Venice, if not the largest. It is the resting place of 26 Doges, heads of the Venetian Republic, which lasted for over 1,000 years until ended by Napoleon in 1797. The interior is truly cavernous. It is in the Castello district, next to the City’s hospital on the north east side.

in one corner there is a fairly large chapel, added to celebrate the sea victory over the Turks at Lepanto in the C16. It is called the Chapel of the Rosary. The funeral service was held here.

My cousin was not a catholic but her husband is by birth and baptism. Therefore a catholic funeral mass was granted, conducted by an Italian priest with one assistant. The mass was a mixture of Latin and good accented English, with much singing (by the priest, with scattered congregation responses). There were no general hymns.

The priest had been well briefed to give a short accurate homily. A local friend of my cousin and her husband, met through mutual love of tennis, gave an emotional tribute.

Through it all the silent coffin of elegant wood, beautifully covered in flowers, sat before the altar rails. There is a terrible blankness about a closed coffin. I find it difficult to connect it to the person who once lived, even though their remains are inside. the coffin says with finality that the person has gone.

Afterwards the coffin was wheeled in slow procession across the long floor of the big church, where a handful of tourists paused in respect. For some time the coffin stood outside, a focus for conversation among the mourners and condolences to the distraught widower.

In Venice, everything bulky travels by water. Eventually the undertakers’ launch arrived on the nearby canal. The coffin was loaded. Accompanied by my cousin’s son and another relative, it moved away across the Lagoon to the Cemetery Island.

My cousin had a very full and varied life.. A successful model when young, a short lived first marriage was followed by one to an avant garde theatre director. They moved to California, where a third marriage to a film producer lasted long enough for two children to arrive. Finally, she met the love of her remaining life. They were partners for many years and married a few years ago. They settled for a while in Paris, also buying the Venice apartment. Venice became their permanent home about 10 years ago. My cousin had become an interior designer and made their apartment beautiful with bold furnishings and murals. The apartment had been carved out of the house owned by the painter Titian. My cousin possessed his garden, which she also made charming. When Covid struck, the BBC were in the process of making a programme about a Titian exhibition. The documentary was renamed "Behind Closed Doors" (available on YouTube ). It

features my cousin and Titian's house. 

In the early years of the Venice residence the couple had a motor boat. It was stored in one of Venice's "dry" marinas: a big boat shed on the side of the Lagoon. Boats are winched out on a sling, swung over the water and splashed down. On visits we would criss cross the Lagoon, sightseeing on Torcello, visiting remote restaurants, anchoring of unspoilt beaches and swimming ashore pushing a picnic on an inflatable. 

There were the evening meals out (little cooking was done in the apartment), especially in the waterside restaurant nearby. My cousin would proudly flourish her resident's card at the the end, claims the residents' discount (applicable throughout Venice, including the swankiest places - yes there is a hidden tourist tax there)).

On the evening of the funeral the family gathered at this restaurant, in now fairly cheerful memory.

August 2025