Funeral Blues

Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours.
Yogi Berra

Too true, too true. I will not get maudlin and depressing on you, but the funeral was yesterday. Not as awful as I thought it would be, with the family politics involved (not mine, I hasten to add), but sad none the less. Weirdly I kept looking for Molly, I expected to see her there. But there were two things she would have loved. First of all it took me, mum and Patrick three attempts to find the wake - and we used to live in Teddington. The Groome sense of direction is ever present, and would have made her smile. The second is that the vicar was still wearing his bicycle clips... Which would have made her laugh out loud. It was those things that made it bearable.

This is the poem which was read out by Molly's daughter; I liked it , so I thought I'd post it here:

I am standing on the sea shore,

A ship sails in the morning breeze and starts for the ocean.

She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her

Till at last she fades on the horizon and someone at my side says:

"She is gone."

Gone! Where?

Gone from my sight -m that is all.

She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars as she was when I saw her

And just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.

The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,

not in her.

And just at the moment when someone at my side says,

"She is gone",

There are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up a glad shout:

"There she comes"

- and that is dying. An horizon and just the limit of our sight.

Lift us up, Oh Lord, that we may see further.

Bishop Brent