Tag Archives: funerals

Beliefs, Introspection

The All Consuming Life

Sunrise at UWA Boatclub

This my friends was the day that the world found out that little Cleo Smith had been found alive. Some good news after a week reeling from some of the worst.

It was such a beautiful sunrise, full of hope and promise.

I thought after my last post that I would be back every day… well at least once a week… but it is harder than I thought to get back into the habit and well, life has been distracting consuming every second of brainspace.

Remember Brain Space with Tim and Debbie? I used to do a fair impersonation of Debbie when I was 14. I digress…

I have been educated in Jewish funerals since we last met. And I’m impressed. I like the fact that the coffins are basic and everyone gets the same. Fancy shiny coffins that cost thousands of dollars make me feel slightly ill. What a waste. I like the fact that people are given mandated space to grieve. I like the thought of carrying a square of cloth for a week so that you are carrying your beloved with you. I appreciated the beautiful singing of the rabbi and the message that we carry the legacy of the passed by acting as he would have acted. There were eulogies but no flowers, no photos, no video montages, no sometimes dodgy music selections.

I don’t want to be buried but I liked the way the congregation was invited to help fill in the grave. Three shovelfuls. Put the spade back in the earth between people. Standing in the dirt, it felt real.

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Vale Russell. You will be missed.

Selfie corner

So this could become a regular segment. Last time I added a selfie with Elizabeth, today I bring you Jen who I caught up with for the first time since school back in 1983. Yes we had what I call school back in those days before the internet.

Me and Jen

My memory of Jen was that she was one of the cool and a bit naughty day girls. Way more cool than me. She remembers me as brainy. Not sure where she got that from. Oh wait. She must have heard my Debbie impersonation.

I’m afraid she couldn’t tell any of my work colleagues any incriminating stories. I mean my nickname was Doris Day and you can’t get straighter than that. Very boring for them, and me.

But it was lovely catching up and finding out about nearly 40 years of each other’s lives and how they intersected.

Current Affairs, Fashion Victim, Health

Goodbye girls

1 Comment

What a week!

Two funerals – which to be fair were both uplifting in their own ways.  An odd mixture of celebration and sadness and seeing people at their most real.

I do like this trend of personal funerals rather than the traditional church burials – you really feel you know the person.

As for mine?

I don’t care.

Cremate me in a cardboard box and play Yo-Yo Ma’s Bach Cello Suite 1 as you throw my ashes off the ridge at Ennuin (or wherever),  that’d do for me.  It’s up to you. Funerals are for the living not the dead. 

I stopped to smell the roses on the way to work one day this week.  That’s what funerals do for you.

Smelling the roses

It didn’t smell but it did look pretty.

I wasn’t going to talk about funerals today, but I guess they have been a big part of this week.

My crazy protein diet is still on.

Tomatoes and bacon for breakfast – my favourite breakfast and one I rarely have because… well it’s bacon. 

But bacon is protein and therefore allowed.

I’m losing weight.

The girls are going.

Gee it’s been fun having them.  I can see some lingerie purchases will soon be necessary.

Sigh.

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I might even be able to bear to buy some scales.

In other news, the other day I was in the city and came across a Free Iran protest.

This I could tell from the banners. 

All the speeches were in Arabic so can’t tell you exactly what the protest is about.

It made me feel good to be an Australian.

How we allow everyone to have their moment to speak publically about issues they care about.

I think we’d all like a free Iran.

So it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow… have any plans?

I’m planning a visit to the beauty parlour – an annual overhaul?

I do hate going and have people fuss over me.

Yes I realise that that makes me less of a woman.

Let me check my care factor… oh… zero.

So I’m stealing myself for some major fuss.

Standby for a sleeker, browner, glossier Cellobella.

Just like me, but better.

Introspection

A most enjoyable funeral

2 Comments

That was what a senior member of the congregation said today after the funeral of the dad of one of my best friends.

And it was an enjoyable funeral.

Jeremy

This is the grandson who looked so grown up and cool in his pink shirt and stipey pants.

I guess the reason why the service was so lovely was because it was so personal.

My brave beautiful friend spurned the lecturn and sat down on the edge of the catafalque and created an instantly intimate atmosphere while she told us some things about her dad.

His philosophies, his habits, his life.

She was engaging, at times funny and she painted a portrait of her dad that all of us could take with us.

Then her ex stood up and did a more formal eulogy.

It was the perfect balance.

Instead of flowers, a copy of The Guardian (I think it was) was put on the coffin. In case he might like to do the crossword.

Afterward, we went to a gorgeous restaurant for lunch and to catch up.

I felt weirded out.

First because the funeral had taken place where my dear friend H had had his service and I was sitting with the same two fabulous girls I was sitting with then.

It collapsed time a bit.

It felt odd.
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And also I think because I have another funeral on Friday.

Someone who I knew quite well.

Someone who I saw in hospital the day before he died.

I guess I’m in a vulnerable place.

Man – talk about a rollercoaster of feelings this week.

Nom noms

I like funerals though… except for the fact that someone has died of course.

I like what they do for people.

How they bring people together.

How the music lifts people’s souls – both living and one presumes the dead as well.

I love to see how people handle death.

Each one is so different.

Each one, in its own way, special.

But one a week is enough.

More than enough.