Tendrils
POETRY: A comforting presence at a funeral. Loss. Connection. Hope.
They’re patently here,
in your memories, true.
So beckon them, close
to the pew next to you.
Feel the cloth of their jacket,
their fingernails’ length,
the sound of their swallow,
renewed youthful strength.
The gentlest of smiles
as you see, understand
that their spirit’s farewell
is a squeeze of your hand.
I HAVE NOT BEEN to many funerals. But at every one – as we are all eyes-front concentrating on letting enough emotion out and keeping more emotion in – I feel the presence of the one who has passed. I doubt this is rare – nor is the feeling that they’re not really in the coffin. It is not ghostly or unsettling; it is calm and welcome. Unless you’re given to supernatural explanations, then like me you’ll experience this as just the memory of them, manifesting. I always find it such a comfort, to know that their life continues in the thoughts of everybody present. The first time this happened was at the crematorium service for my aunt, “R”. The celebrant – a vicar who did not really know the family but could trot through the liturgy – messed up the list of her grandchildren, missing out “K”, the eldest. Sat in front of me, K tensed up, a little upset but keeping it together. And then I could feel my Auntie R, along the pew, turning to roll her eyes at her grand-daughter, to say: “Don’t mind this idiot – I know who you are love!”
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Photo by Jakub Pierożyński on Unsplash.
Yes a very common feeling. It would appear that a person is never fully dead until the very last person who knew them is also dead.
I bought you a coffee!! I’m having a coffee too😎