Skip to main content

Through the tears

I attended a humanist funeral today for the first time.
It was also my first time in a crematorium.
I didn't really know what to expect.
All I knew was that my friend is going through a difficult time, and I wanted to show him that I am there for him if he needs me.
Funerals are always sad events, even if you don't know the person who has passed.
You witness people say farewell to someone that they truly love.
You see raw pain and emotion and know that there is nothing that you can do to help.
Today, there was a moment where we were asked to think about the man who had died.
I didn't know him, I knew of him from having heard many stories over the past year and while I momentarily thought of what I knew of him, my thoughts wandered to other things.
I thought of how different the funeral was to an Irish funeral. How much more personal it seemed.
I thought of my sister's funeral and what a show of love and a poignant farewell we were able to give her.
I thought of my friend Dan who died two years ago this month, and how I was unable to say farewell to him, and how I hoped he knew that I was his friend until the end.
After the service, I felt a bit down and felt bizarrely guilty about it.
It feels very selfish thinking about yourself, when you have a friend going through a difficult time.
I decided to go for a walk to a park I've been looking forward to visiting, Hazlehead Park.
As I wandered around the park, totally lost in my thoughts, I stumbled into two rosegardens. One was a memorial for men who died on a rig in the North Sea in 1988, and the other was a garden for the Queen Mother. I rarely sit on my explorations as it is always difficult to get up again, but today I did.
I sat in a week alcove, looked at the flowers and cried.
I cried for my friend, and his loss
I cried for my sister and the fact that she never got to go see Milan and Paris like she wanted
I cried for Dan, and his battle with alcohol
And afterwards I felt so much better.
I looked at the flowers again, at their colours, smelt their fragrances.
I followed a random path alongside a stream and saw ducks and a heron.
I listened to the water babbling along beside me.
I found some gardens, and they were beautiful and it lifted me inside.
I sat again, listening to ducks quacking in the pool under the waterfall I was sitting on.
This time I didn't cry.
I smiled.
Life is sad, this is true.
Loss is inevitable.
Loss is always going to be difficult.
As tough as it seems, we need to remember to try to let the life around us seep into our bones.
And make us smile through the tears.
Yet again, when I was feeling down mother nature cheered me up.
As my sister used to say,

Il y a beaucoup de fleurs.


Comments

  1. Goodness, I adore you. You have such an ability to find poetry in moments. To embrace your surroundings and engage in what they are trying to teach you, or show you. Lu, you're incredible. I'm so sorry for the loss in your friends life, and the loss in yours.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Missing Marguerite. 14 years later.

On this day, 14 years ago, the world lost a little bit of its magic, when at 11pm, my little sister took her final breath and life changed as we all knew it. She was only 17 years old. 17 years and 19 days to be exact. As I sat here today reading all the lovely messages written about her, my heart soared with pride in the fact that in her short time with us, she managed to have such a big impact on so many people. Marguerite Mary O'Dwyer, an ambassador for mischief, mockery and for having a marvellous time. I miss her so much.

It is funny how every year there is something different that I focus on for the anniversary. I never choose my train of thought, I think the year since the last anniversary chooses it for me. Last night, I got fairly plastered on wine and when my other half went to his bed, I sat and sang along to every sad song I could think of. I had a wee chat with Mags before I went to bed and woke up this morning well rested and ready to seize the day. 
I got quite sad a…

Day 2 - 20 facts about me

I always struggle with challenges such as these, where I have to give some facts about myself. Can I think of 20 things and if so will they be any good? Pressure! Well... here goes....

1. I love letters. Not bills and what not, I mean real, news filled letters. I have a handful of people whom I write to, and they write back in return. Alas, I am not very good at replying in a timely manner! I have had penpals since I was about 11 years old. Two of which were from Belarus. Their names were Tatiana and Irena. One of the highlights of their letters were the wee boxed stationery that they used to write on. I loved it so much.
2. I dislike sheep. Immensely.
3. I have 2 tattoos. One of a fairy, and one of a fox.
4. I love ducks and foxes. And Hairy Coos.
5. I think puns are severely underrated.
6. My favourite book is Jane Eyre.
7. My favourite author is more difficult... maybe Jasper Fforde... though the compilations of Irish tales by Sinead DeValera have a special place in my heart as do …

Day 3 - My favourite quote

This is a tough one because there are a number of quotes and phrases that I try to live my life by, or reflect upon. I am not sure if I have a favourite.
My life  mantra I picked up many years ago, but I don't know where it came from.
That is 'Fuck it or Fix it'.
I use it all the time. If I have a problem then fix it. If I can't fix it then fuck it. Move on.
That is sometimes easier said that done but it does help me out a lot sometimes.

I also really like a quote by Thomas Edison.
'I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that it won't work'.
It is a very comforting sentiment sometimes.

I read a book years ago called 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu. I highly recommend it.
In that book he says 'The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting'.
I have always like that outlook.