A week ago a close friend of ours called Laura passed away. She was one of the most remarkable people I have ever met and suddenly died of natural previously undiagnosed causes. She was well travelled, intelligent, beautiful and had a belly laugh which was infectious. She had just finished her degree in Evolutionary Biology at Oxford and was a strong campaigner for the teaching of evolution, environmentalism and various secular issues. Obviously she was also a staunch atheist.
Early last week her best friend contacted me to request that I conduct the memorial service as she knew that Laura would be "tickled pink" to know that I (as an ex pastor) was given this role. It was a real honour and I was really touched to be asked to perform it. It was also a little daunting as I had not had much experience in funeral services, let alone secular services.
She was buried at a beautiful environmental burial site on the hills of East Sussex. It is a beautiful spot of English countryside and all the caskets are made of bio-degradable substances. In addition, there are no gravestones, just small wooden plaques with a new tree planted at the head of each grave.
The service itself was conducted with her friends and family at her grave whilst the cold winter rain camouflaged our tears. My introduction was based around a quote by Emerson "It is not the length of life but the depth of life" as Laura loved, laughed, thought and felt deeply. In return she was loved deeply. She will also be missed deeply.
It was followed by a reading of Led Zeppelin's Immigrant song as she was indeed a Valkyrie and had spent the past few months working on a farm in Iceland. Other readings about friendship, love and the appreciation of life were read followed by the laying of flowers (no non bio-degradeable items were allowed). He best friend then poured a shot of her favourite Port onto her grave as a final toast to her.
We then returned to her friend's family farm which is around the corner where sat up until the early hours of the morning pouring over family albums, telling each other stories and finishing that bottle of Port she so loved.
It was a beautiful, heartfelt and moving service with no grand allusions to an afterlife, gods or sins. We celebrated her life here on earth as sacred with no need for anything further to be added in some ivory tower in the heavens. She was special enough as a beautiful person here on earth. It embraced our humanity, our frailty and the love, respect and deep friendship which binds us as a community.
Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the grey feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.
Adam Zagajewski
♥
