2 August 2012 – The Good Funeral Guide

Love, death and much, much verse

The Purbeck Isle

What do love and death have in common? Ans: they inspire poetry. It’s where we turn when words fail.

Two pieces today. The first is freshly minted by our religious correspondent, Richard Rawlinson.

We do not know

We do not know when or how we shall die.
Will we even have time to say goodbye?
A deadly disease or quick accident,
In peaceful sleep or by something violent?

We do not know where we go at the end.
Heaven, Hell, Nowhere, or does it depend?
How do we prepare for this great mystery,
What acts and beliefs define our history?

We do not know why we love or hate so
Until we acknowledge it all has to go.
Life matters more because Death’s at the door,
Merging as one with eternity’s law.

We do not know when or how we shall die,
May God gives us grace for our final sigh.

The second is by Jim Dolbear, was published in the Free Portland News in July and commemorates the loss with all hands of the Purbeck Isle off Portland Bill in May.

Souls of the Sea

The Purbeck Isle set sail that day
To trawl whelk, haul crabs along the way
Skipper Dave, Robert, and young Jack,
On the same day, they would be back.
Twilight came, there’s no sight, no sound,
The search now on ’til they are found.
Alas the rescue not to be,
Three more souls lost to the sea.
Now bairns alas will only see,
Pictures of dad when on mum’s knee.
A widow for her son will weep,
As angels their vigil now keep.
No husband, dad, son to hold,
We bow our heads when the bells tolled.
And pray for safety there will be,
For those that fish upon the sea.

New Orleans comes to London

Posted by Vale

Celebrant Kim Farley went to Abram Wilson’s memorial service a week or so ago. He was a young American Jazz Musician who died unexpectedly aged just 38. She writes: ‘There was a procession from the South Bank to St John’s in Waterloo and once inside the relative cool of the packed church, there was more music and singing and readings and a brilliant eulogy by his young widow. I didn’t know him, but she helped everyone get a strong sense of his vibrancy, humour and spirit.

They were together for 3 years. He died at 38. She spoke of how he’d usually be talking to her so happily in the morning that he’d join her on the walk to the tube station when she left for work. And then like as not, stay with her, down to the platform. Where she would miss the first train. And the second. And then usually get the 4th, on which he might just have decided to accompany her anyway. “It’s just a train ride, Baby”.

Here’s Abram himself playing some modern New Orleans Jazz (by Wynton Marsalis)