A funeral for Simon
The church was packed with rainbow colours, friends and colleagues.
In the homily colleagues were acknowledged, but not their role,
We sang, we listened,
Friends, who outweighed all, were welcomed, but not discussed or acknowledged in life stories told.
we left and watched as he was put in the hearse for a final journey.
The colleague congregation blocked the road, we stood and watched, we stood in the road
and said our goodbyes here.
From this point it was family only, saying goodbyes in a place not shared with us.
The family cortège left the street
The colleague congregation stood in the road, the street, we were alone, together,
with memories of a young, lively, gangly man, who had chosen to leave us.
We stood, we chatted, we hugged, we cried.
Our formal role was over, individual roles, grieving, missing him would now begin.
without a final goodbye ceremony.
We would need to be contented with our last view of the departing cortège, this moment, this place, this goodbye.
We stood, we chatted, we hugged, we cried, we stood in the road eking out every moment of our final goodbye.
The colleague congregation gathered a week later. We came together to remember, our friend, our colleague. No family this time.
Their restrictions discharged, and we remembered.
The man we loved in all his youthful glory
We laughed, we cried, we hugged, we danced and every now and then we wondered how he, in all his long legged ganglyness ever got into his Mini, let alone drive it.
Many of us had been given a lift by him and had watched in amazement this special contortion.
Approaching the first anniversary I happened to tell this story to another colleague who stated that he knew the family.
Having outlined the events of the day I explained that these were no longer issues but that his friends and colleagues wanted to do something to acknowledge the anniversary.
People remembered him, people still missed him.
I asked if he could approach the family to share the location of his final resting place.
I had talked to a few friends who wanted to remember the anniversary, in turn friends had spoken to friends or colleagues who had expressed a desire to celebrate the occasion but didn’t know how.
My colleague said they would speak to the family and try to get the information but that they were aware of how the family felt about the loss.
A week later I was contacted with an address, a church, a village near Leamington.
I could share this information and the family were overwhelmed by the fact that colleagues and friends thought so much of him and wanted to remember the anniversary.
On a bright autumnal Sunday, nearest the anniversary, I found myself by a church, in a village, near Leamington and soon found the spot that had been described by the family, his final resting place.
There were some flowers, small bunches, gracefully placed with cards and names and thoughts
Here at last we could say farewell to our friend, our colleague.
I left my small bunch of flowers, with a small card I told him how much he was loved, how much I missed him, how much he was missed, and things were not the same since he had gone.
The church was packed with rainbow colours, friends and colleagues.
In the homily colleagues were acknowledged, but not their role,
We sang, we listened,
Friends, who outweighed all, were welcomed, but not discussed or acknowledged in life stories told.
we left and watched as he was put in the hearse for a final journey.
The colleague congregation blocked the road, we stood and watched, we stood in the road
and said our goodbyes here.
From this point it was family only, saying goodbyes in a place not shared with us.
The family cortège left the street
The colleague congregation stood in the road, the street, we were alone, together,
with memories of a young, lively, gangly man, who had chosen to leave us.
We stood, we chatted, we hugged, we cried.
Our formal role was over, individual roles, grieving, missing him would now begin.
without a final goodbye ceremony.
We would need to be contented with our last view of the departing cortège, this moment, this place, this goodbye.
We stood, we chatted, we hugged, we cried, we stood in the road eking out every moment of our final goodbye.
The colleague congregation gathered a week later. We came together to remember, our friend, our colleague. No family this time.
Their restrictions discharged, and we remembered.
The man we loved in all his youthful glory
We laughed, we cried, we hugged, we danced and every now and then we wondered how he, in all his long legged ganglyness ever got into his Mini, let alone drive it.
Many of us had been given a lift by him and had watched in amazement this special contortion.
Approaching the first anniversary I happened to tell this story to another colleague who stated that he knew the family.
Having outlined the events of the day I explained that these were no longer issues but that his friends and colleagues wanted to do something to acknowledge the anniversary.
People remembered him, people still missed him.
I asked if he could approach the family to share the location of his final resting place.
I had talked to a few friends who wanted to remember the anniversary, in turn friends had spoken to friends or colleagues who had expressed a desire to celebrate the occasion but didn’t know how.
My colleague said they would speak to the family and try to get the information but that they were aware of how the family felt about the loss.
A week later I was contacted with an address, a church, a village near Leamington.
I could share this information and the family were overwhelmed by the fact that colleagues and friends thought so much of him and wanted to remember the anniversary.
On a bright autumnal Sunday, nearest the anniversary, I found myself by a church, in a village, near Leamington and soon found the spot that had been described by the family, his final resting place.
There were some flowers, small bunches, gracefully placed with cards and names and thoughts
Here at last we could say farewell to our friend, our colleague.
I left my small bunch of flowers, with a small card I told him how much he was loved, how much I missed him, how much he was missed, and things were not the same since he had gone.
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