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November 06 The End of The Song Funeral today. Brisk, cold day with some sunshine. No appetite. Returning to places I knew as a child when visiting you. Your house just down the road still full of your things. You left it so suddenly and unexpectedly your pots were still in the sink, your slippers shucked by the bed, your little fire still on. Odd to think of it there, full of your things still. Such a beautiful church -  Victorian and full of wonderful stained glass, a painted organ, bas relief. Good to see the family again. Cousins I've not seen for years. I don't know why we do that. Your sons and grandchildren spoke about you and they all said the same things I thought - about your great kindness, your wisdom, your strength which was of the kind that some see as weakness but was 'like grass' - small and slight, but able to break through concrete. Your eternally child-like wonder at the world and what is in it, your wise council, which - knowing so well the follies and weaknesses of our human natures, gave comment without judgement, and was always given with such love because you had a care for tender things, like plants, creatures both bovine and savage, and especially people, with their foolish, foolish hearts. I
was ok until they played the opening music - Ar Lan y Mor, sung by Bryn
Terfel. Can't find a track of him singing it, but here's it is by some Welsh woman: not the same at all, but you can always google Bryn.
Ar Lan y Môr Down by the Seaside Ar lan y môr mae rhosys chochion Beside the sea, there are red roses Ar lan y môr mae lilis gwynion Beside the sea, there’s lovely lilies Ar lan y môr mae ‘nghariad inne Beside the sea, my sweetheart lives Yn cysgu’r nos a choddi’r bore. Asleep at night, awake at morning. Ar lan y môr mae carreg wastad Cold is the frost, and cold the snowfall Lle bum yn siarad gair âm cariad Cold the house without fire in winter Oddeutu hon fe dyf y lili Cold is the church without a vicar Ac ambell sbrigyn o rosmari. Cold am I also, without my lover. The church was warm, colourful and full of art and history. Your friends were there, including your Quaker friends, and I could almost see you smiling - your head tilted to one side, gently as you always did, and you may have laughed at what everyone was saying, because you knew yourself I think, and would have been amazed. But that was your gift. You did know yourself, and in your own life, full of richness, tragedy and colour, you could see us all as in a mirror. That's why you smiled. Then you exited to the Ashoken farewell. And then we went home |
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