There is a new music system in one of the chapels, and the attendants have been putting background playlists together. The chapel attendant and I had checked the music and the running order for our next service, and I went into the chapel to put my paperwork on the lectern. There was no one else inside, and I paused for a few moments, as I looked out through the floor to ceiling windows to the grounds outside. I became aware of the music playing, and my heart heard a familiar piece from my random playlist at home.
When I am writing a loved one’s story and creating a ceremony to honour them, I go into a special place within myself and usually play music through headphones. My heart still hears loved ones telling the stories and memories they shared, and there are whispers from spirit, so I can’t listen to music with lyrics. ‘Waterways’ by Ludovico Einaudi is one of my favourite pieces.
I took a few moments that day to stand and listen, and then popped back into the chapel attendant’s office to tell her how special her music choice was.
Those moments have stayed in my heart. 💜
One of our services recently was for a lady who had passed in her fifties, and her young adult son was managing on his own. In the weeks preceding the ceremony, every mothering instinct in the funeral arrangers, our funeral director and I came to the fore. This lovely lad is a sensitive soul and gently treats everyone with love and respect. He was sure the chapel would be a full house to honour his Mum, and he was right.
We were concerned that he would have the right support on the day, as there was only so much we could give him with the roles we were taking. Sometimes, life and the universe cover things in the most unexpected ways.
We were assured that this lady’s honorary granddaughter would be there, and she was all our young lad needed for support. I hadn’t met her in the run-up, so on the day when I greeted this lovely young soul, I watched as he greeted everyone who had gathered around the cars. I was keeping an eye out for his support and drawing a blank, so I asked him where she was. He turned and pointed, and my eyes lowered, coming to rest on a little one, standing there blowing kisses to everyone, hugging people and chatting easily as people bent down to talk to her.
She caught my eye and I opened my arms and she ran into them. 💜
We introduced ourselves, she stroked my face and hugged me tightly around my neck, and I turned so she could slip into our young lad’s arms before we headed into the chapel.
They sat together on the front row, and each time I looked towards her, she blew kisses and smiled. Her calm and loving energy belied her years, and I could only watch her in wonder. At the close of his Mum’s ceremony, the three of us blew kisses and placed our hands on our hearts before I bowed to leave.
Outside, everyone was talking, and there was another point where our eyes met, and she flew across the grass. This time we could talk properly. This child is unlike any I have ever met. At five years old, she is a bundle of quiet joy. We talked about the flowers and the pattern on her dress, her birthday party later this summer, how she is enjoying school and her love for the young lad we have all been looking after. I gently told her how loving she was and thanked her.
I will never forget her. 💜
A lovely post. Jane. All too often, we miss the ability of children to keep our focus on what is really important. That of course, is life and moving forward. Love to Tim.
Children simply understand “life is beautiful“…