Last night we paid our respects to Barb and supported our friends as they mourned the death of a parent. Today, DH will carry the burden of his love for her during her funeral service. One of Barb’s wishes was that DH be a pall bearer on the day she is laid to rest.
This is a difficult task–one I have never performed myself, but one I watched DH struggle with when he and his cousins carried their grandfather from the church to the cemetary. I have to believe this is one of the hardest journeys one must walk.
In life, the only guarantee is death.
Marriages fail, children are led astray, jobs are lost and families split apart due to affairs, drugs or tragedy. Yet even through the pain, nothing is final. Emotions wax and wan. Joy follows sorrow. Anger preceeds calm.
Life is fluid. Experiences hinge upon each other. Journeys change from one moment to the next. One week to the next. Year to year and decade to decade.
Yet there is always, inevitably, an end. This simple fact shifts the focus from life itself to the journey through life. Like any good book, there is a beginning, a middle and an end. Like the characters between the covers, we face obstacles, experience success and ultimately grow and change because of the choices we make.
While writing my DD’s confirmation poem, I focused not on her confirmation, but rather on her faith journey. I wrote it to have meaning last Sunday, ten years from now and a lifetime from now–however short or long that may be.
It is timely today, as my DH prepares to carry Barb to her final resting place. It is a poetic replica of her life–the kindness, acceptance and grace in which she lived–and I’d like to share it with you.
Faith journey
Love journey
Hope journey
Life
Walk in the way of your spirit; your heart knows the way.
Follow where it shall lead, the path is ever under your feet.
And should you stumble, lift your voice to heaven
the answer is there.
Reach for the stars
Believe in miracles
Trust in the Lord
He is your guide.
Faith, Love, Hope
This is the journey of life.
These last days have been filled with raw emotion, both good and bad. I suspect writing will flow easily for the next little while and my “voice” will be authentic. Some of my best writing follows the emotional tides of my life. I suspect this is true for most writers.
What life experiences have shaped the kind of person/writer you are today? What events played a major role in your life/writer’s journey?
Words from the Woods 
Our thoughts are with you. Thank you for sharing this beauftiful expression of your heart.
Thanks, Jenny.
Funerals always have a way of making us look at the way we live our lives. I just wish everyone could see the truth behind death–that it will come as surely as the sun rises in the morning–yet what we do with our time before it shines on us is the most important thing in the world.
It is all about the journey.
Cat, you write very eloquently. I read this poem I wrote at eulogies. And excuse me if I don’t directly answer your questions of this blog.
EVERYTHING IS BY GRACE
Everything is by grace
Every step one takes
Every breath
One never knows
When ones time runs out.
It is so easy to take God
For granted
And every privilege
One has.
Roads do not continue
If someone does not repair
The potholes
Or keep them paved.
Everything is by grace
Our homes
And the heat it takes
To keep us warm there.
Everything is by grace
The skills
Each one has
Food
Every bite one takes.
Everything is by grace
The people who unexpectedly
Lend us a hand
Angels are always among us.
The hope generated
In each new day
Everything is by grace
Our friends
Our mates
Our health
Our illnesses
Even our troubles
Everything is by grace.
And there are promises
God will never forsake us
Even in our darkest hour
Everything is by grace.
And only He can take away
The hurt and pain
That does not let go.
Everything is by grace
Every birth
Every death
Everything is by grace.
Siggy,
Thanks for sharing–here and at the services you have read your poem. Poetry is a beautiful way to help us remember and to inspire us in our life journeys.
Such a lovely poem Cat. Nicely done.
My hubby has served as a pall-bearer several times. My son did it a few years back for his great grandmother. Very difficult and quite an honour.
I call on my own memories often when I’m writing – not of events, but of emotions. My emotional memories are pretty strong and you’re right, the writing flows at these times.
Take care.
Jemi,
Events are nothing if we don’t bind them to us with emotions. Thanks so much for your kind words. I always appreciate the wonderful spirit of my cyber friends. You all are amazing people with big hearts.