I am not yet at the age where one regularly attends funerals of friends who were no older than oneself, but one such occasion took me to Cambridge early in the New Year. I had once been a member of the choir at the church where it took place, and since those days the musical establishment at the church has (contrary to the common pattern) expanded and been invested in. We sang some favourite pieces of my late friend, ending with the hymn tune Coe Fen; where more appropriate to sing it than a couple of minutes’ walk from Coe Fen itself? And I learnt that we had shared a love of Franck’s Chorale in A minor, the closing voluntary. Not that any of this afforded very much consolation.
Singing at very emotional occasions (and I have done a few, including funerals of children and young people) is always potentially fraught. I would still rather be in the choir at such times, as its liturgical role gives something to focus on.