Thoughts on a funeral

Yesterday I had to attend the funeral of Liam’s great grandmother on his paternal side. It was only a graveside service as the family is not religious (or spiritual) in the slightest, nothing like the long full-service Catholic masses we have on our side of the family. So I decided, after discussing it with my father, to take Liam to the funeral. A 4 year old of course doesn’t understand and can’t comprehend death and funerals. Very simply I told him that we were going to say goodbye to her, and she would be in a box, which is a special room that takes her to heaven. He accepted that fully and comfortably. I am sure some people would be shocked at my decision to take a little boy to a funeral, but honestly I think we shield our children from too much in today’s society. Death is as natural a part of life as is birth. It is only in recent (relatively) years that in Western society we have sanitised it to a point where it is seen as dreadful and taboo. Also, I believe it helps to give children closure even though they might not fully understand what is going on, in that at least they are seeing people saying goodbye, and the person hasn’t just “disappeared”.

It really was a beautiful day for a funeral. Sunny and warm with a delicious breeze. The service was short, but lovely. Full of the usual fun and fond rememberances, and little sad moments. Something that was said during the service really made me “still” … stop and take notice. And it was simply the statement along the lines of “let this be a reminder to us all to not let life pass us by.” To not waste a minute wasting it. It was said in better words than that – words that hit my heart but I can’t remember them.

It surely IS a timely reminder. I have let this year pass me entirely by, after the shock and trauma of losing my job, and other things besides. I have felt paralyzed by it … let myself be paralyzed by it. I have had to deal with depression and panic attacks, and have secluded myself in a lot of ways. Now little germs of ideas have been worming their way through my frightened little brain. Little possibilities. I have to find some way of getting an income. Employment here is virtually nil. I’ve been thinking about moving further north to a beautiful seaside town that is a major regional centre which has more opportunities. A new start in a new town with new people. But I don’t see how I can afford rent. So many other things to take into consideration. So many things I have to think of but think of it I MUST because I can’t let this continue any more. I have sacrified myself and drifted along for an eternity …

Anyway. While we were at the cemetary yesterday I took a quick walk over to the old part. It’s a small, country cemetary, quite pretty and surrounded by bush (as in Australian bush, not ‘bushes’) It’s not a terrifically old cemetary – this is Australia we are talking about and white history only goes back a tiny way, we are such a young country in regards to European “occupation”. Regardless, there were some fantastic old grave sites and tomb stones, some broken ones laying on the ground. Some with rusty iron fences around them … Liam was only interested to a point so I couldn’t explore as much as I wanted. I promised myself I would go back later this week with camera in hand and take some (hopefully) great photos — doubtful as I’m a crappy photographer.

Last night after the day that was the funeral, the wake, and Liam finally collapsed into bed, I lit all my candles, burned some incense and watched an old old favourite movie — Picnic at Hanging Rock. It was an amazingly lovely day for a day that’s main focus was a funeral.

I feel so pensive and drifting this weekend – my mind is drifting off in a million different directions that’s it hard to catch the wisps of thought and hold them down. I had a million little things I thought I might ponder about on here but they have slipped on by like the smokey ephemeral wafts of thought they are.