Ane Brun – Your tears are much heavier these days

Your tears are much heavier these days
I’ve seen them coming in like waves
From the ocean, I’ve seen them coming
From the ocean, I’ve seen them growing
And moving with the water

The rocking is getting more severe
They’ll sail with you anywhere
We will make it
A little further
Don’t you worry
We’re almost there

You and me
Oh we’ll be
Here always here
You and me

Your tears are much heavier these days
I’ve seen them coming in like waves
From the ocean, I’ve seen them coming
From the ocean, I’ve seen them growing
And moving with the water
And moving with the water

You and me
Oh we’ll be
Here always here
You and me
Oh we’ll be
Here always here
You and me
Oh we’ll be here

Sung at the memorial for the families of the victims of the July 22nd massacre in Norway last year.

Recommended by Jehdeiah, whom we thank. 

Plus ça change…

“It is curious that long association with the sadness of death seems to have deprived an occasional funeral director of all sense of moderation. Whether the temptation of “good business” gradually undermines his character—knowing as he does that bereaved families ask no questions—or whether his profession is merely devoid of taste, he will, if not checked, bring the most ornate and expensive casket in his establishment; he will perform every rite that his professional ingenuity for expenditure can devise; he will employ every attendant he has; he will order vehicles numerous enough for the cortège of a president; he will even, if thrown in contact with a bewildered chief-mourner, secure a pledge for the erection of an elaborate mausoleum.

Some one, therefore, who has the family’s interest at heart and knows their taste and purse, should go personally to the establishment of the undertaker, and not only select the coffin, but go carefully into the specification of all other details, so that everything necessary may be arranged for, and unnecessary items omitted.”

Emily Post on funeral directors, 1928, here.  Hat tip to Kathryn Edwards.

Thoughts of a funeralgoer

Posted by Lyra Mollington

On the day of cousin Trevor’s funeral, I woke up in a cold sweat. I’d had the most awful nightmare. I dreamt that all the mourners had been instructed to wear novelty slippers – the bigger and furrier the better. If that wasn’t bad enough, there were shaven-headed monks in saffron robes at the doors of the crematorium inspecting us. I was beginning to panic – were my gorilla slippers furry enough?

As my sister Myra and I drove along the M4, I thought it best not to mention my dream. As planned, we arrived in plenty of time for a cup of coffee and a Bath bun at the garden centre next door. Never attend a funeral on an empty stomach – grumbling tummies are not what the grieving widow wishes to hear.

Nor does she wish to hear the raucous ring-tone of a mobile phone. Barbara, the lady leading the ceremony, had barely welcomed us when, ‘Who let the dogs out?’ assaulted our ears.

The last time Myra and I had seen Trevor was at his father’s funeral twelve years ago, so the eulogy was a useful way of catching up on his latest news. We had to read between the lines of course. The word ‘alcoholic’ was never mentioned. Instead, we were told that he enjoyed socialising with his friends at his local, The Full Moon.

As the ceremony continued, I realised that in my preparations for the funeral, I hadn’t even considered that this might be a sad occasion. After all, Trevor was a Jack-the-lad and a happy-go-lucky sort .

Then we were told how his wife Marjorie had barely started researching Buddhist funerals on the internet when she discovered a note. Barbara read it out:

Dear Marj,

No fuss. Keep it simple and don’t spend too much. Treat yourself to a holiday. As the curtains close, The Sound of Silence – Simon & Garfunkel. Be happy my darling.

All my love,

Trevor

P.S. “When you are born, you cry, and the world rejoices. When you die, you rejoice, and the world cries.” (Ancient Buddhist saying)

Trevor – wherever you are, I hope you are rejoicing.

The Good Funeral Guide
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