When my father died, a good friend and fellow celebrant (hello Sarah!) sent me a lovely book called "All in the end is harvest - An anthology for those who grieve" (*). It is the perfect book to dip in and out of, as happy as it is sad and reflective. This poem stood out for me when I last picked up the book. "Not speaking as much as sharing" is the line that really resonates with you. The poem is wholly inappropriate for the time of year, but I really didn't want to wait six months before sharing it with you!
(*) The book is edited by Agnes Whitaker and well worth having a copy of your book shelf.
Sharing by Brenda Lismer
Autumn
was our time of year
Working
together in the old walled garden
Not
speaking so much as sharing
The
silence and September warmth
The
gentleness of slow decay
At
summer’s passing.
I
was the debris man clearing the way
You
turned the dark earth with your spade
Slow
and steady knowing your pace
Turned
tramp in your awful gardening clothes
Which
somehow become dear.
I
miss your patient figure
As
I harvest alone
Miss
the shared silence
And
the coming together at day’s end.
Today I am mostly thinking about tomorrow's ceremony. A lovely man, who has died aged 37 from cancer. Sometimes life doesn't make much sense...
Beautiful and would have been so appropriate when researching poems for my father's funeral.
ReplyDeleteIt would have been a good choice, although we would have needed some creative licence to write a line or two about his shoes!
ReplyDeleteGosh, you remembered that! :)
ReplyDeleteI have ordered this book today - don't know why really as hopefully we will have a funeral-free year. The problem with a book like this and from reading your blog about family involvement, is that, with hindsight, I feel we (the family, not you) should have been more directly involved with Mum and Dad's funerals than we were. That's not your fault, by the way - you did everything just as we wanted at the time. Maybe this is something else to add to the Stages of Grieving - that we would do things differently if we could.
ReplyDeleteYour post really had me thinking yesterday; I composed so many replies in my mind, but each seemed to head off in a different direction... I guess what I find especially interesting is that your father's ceremony, for example, was quite different to a traditional ceremony; we managed to include many of the things that I try to address in this blog. We had different people speaking (I had forgotten that Rachael closed the ceremony - I've only once let someone else close a ceremony so I hope she feels special!!), a mix of music (you introduced me to two of my favourites - the Tony Bennett track is fab and still on my i-phone and "Here I am Lord" sung by Wells Cathedral Choir is so moving). On top of that, the reading and words were very personal choices. So overall, the ceremony felt as though there was lots of family involvement and lots of personal choices made. BUT, as you are discovering, there are so many possibilities - these I'll come back to in a new blog. There are barriers too - which I'll also discuss.
ReplyDeleteOn reflection, what it comes down to is that amazing things are possible - ceremonies can be incredibly personal and unique. But the plans need to be in place before death and before grief overwhelms. In the midst of grief it is difficult to find time or energy to start making lots of choices - its much easier to follow a well-trodden path. And there is some comfort in following the time honoured traditions. Overall, my wish is that people understand the choices available and feel empowered to take control. We're a long way from achieving this.
I'll try and write the blog over the coming days - do let me know what you think. Also, I hope you enjoy the book - hopefully it will be a funeral-free year but you may still gain some comfort and insight from the words. If you want to meet up and talk over coffee and cake at the garden centre, let me know - maybe you'll have a spare moment over the Easter break?
Thanks Andrew. I have emailed you - hope that is ok? :)
ReplyDelete