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Me and My Mother (c. 1969)
I.
I was in two minds about whether to speak or stay silent at my mother's funeral service, which was held this morning at South Essex Crematorium. But in the end I decided that I had to say something and wanted to say something; for if I didn't, then who would?
But I also decided it was important to keep it simple, keep it brief, and keep it honest. And so, for anyone who might be interested, here's what I said ...
II.
From a baby in a basket to a corpse in a casket: and in between - a life.
A life defined in terms of duty and by a promise made as a Brownie: I promise to do my best.
I think the one thing that can be said of my mother without fear of contradiction is that she always tried to do her best.
But now, sadly, my mother's life has come to a close and everyday language is somehow inadequate to express one's emotions at this time - which is why we turn to poetry ...
This short verse, written by D. H. Lawrence at the end of his own life, is one that I find particularly touching:
All Souls Day
Be careful, then, and be gentle about death.
For it is hard to die, it is difficult to go through
the door, even when it opens.
And the poor dead, when they have left the walled
and silvery city of the now hopeless body
where are they to go, O where are they to go?
They linger in the shadow of the earth.
The earth's long conical shadow is full of souls
that cannot find the way across the sea of change.
Be kind, Oh be kind to your dead
and give them a little encouragement
and help them to build their little ship of death.
For the soul has a long, long journey after death
to the sweet home of pure oblivion.
Each needs a little ship, a little ship
and the proper store of meal for the longest journey.
Oh, from out of your heart
provide for your dead once more, equip them
like departing mariners, lovingly.
For a related post to this one, please click here.
With thanks to Erica Buné and Tina Johnson for all their help and kindness arranging my mother's funeral.
