On Tuesday (19/01/2016) my family and I said our final goodbyes to my dear mother. We had her cremated and I have had her ashes with me since (18/12/2015). This is because of course this all happened just before Christmas, and so there have been delays as a result. But on 19th she was interred at the Stellawood Cemetery where my father, my gran and my aunt (my mom’s husband, mother and sister) also rest.
I shared this poem with my family as they sealed her ashes behind a granite plaque in the Wall of Remembrance at the cemetery :
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Henry Scott-Holland
I found great comfort in these words and I hope they all did too. It is quite possibly the most uplifting thing I have ever read about death. So rest in peace, Mom. Know that you were loved and that you will be missed.
The death of a parent results in a very particular grief; no other death results in such a yearning for a return to childhood and the comfort of the arms of the one who has passed. It is also true that no other death will make you more aware of the passing of time and of your pending demise also. With the passing of your parents there is a disconnect with your past, for more than anyone else they knew you before you were. They were the keepers of the time of your coming and with them gone you merely are.