Who's bringing the Bear?

Picture the scene. Patrick has died. The day before the funeral we are gathered in mum and dad's living room -mum,dad,brother,sister,brother's girlfriend,my peerie viking and 2 of brother's friends. Cosy. We have little expertise when it comes to funerals.

"So...what actually happens tomorrow?" prompts a run through of proceedings from dad.
"Funeral car's picking us up here?"
"Yes,each car takes 7, so us 5 plus Carly and Duncan, granny etc in the other." 
"Who's bringing the bear?"
"The bear's coming in the other car."
"Oh...ok, does someone have room for picking her up first?"
"No I think they'll go direct - that's probably best, save too much disruption, get the bear last, but be there in plenty of time so it's not too busy."
"Ok. Sure it'll work itself out. so long as SOMEONE's bringing the bear."

All this talk of a bear was making the extras a little uneasy. None of them had been to a Catholic funeral before - perhaps there was always a bear, a kind of tradition from ancient churchy culture. Whatever it was for, this clearly couldn't go ahead without the bear. It was surely some kind of centrepiece, decorative? Or presiding over some part of the service? A family heirloom maybe? I'm not sure if they were afraid, or just confused.

It did indeed all work out. The Bear was picked up and transported without fuss. In the funeral car, her rightful place, and onward to the front of the church. People clear the way for the Bear. A space was left. She was assumed to be imminent.

There is always room for the bear. Everyone knows the Bear, and are keen to greet her, they proffer their seats, guide her along, ask after her health. She is quiet,and unassuming. Welcoming the greetings and slowly, without causing upset, unpushily working her way through the crowd. She doesn't have to squish in, or shuffle people along,no chairs need be scrambled or added to rows.

The Bear is here. She is just fine, she will sit whereever she chooses.

The Bear is my granma.