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Angie, View and Daffodils

We said goodbye to my very dear friend, Angie, today. Her daughters had asked that people wear a splash of colour, particularly the  colours of sand and sea as she so loved being by the sea. Despite my not being able to be there, (I watched online) I wore my best sea colours in a velvet jacket that Angie would have recognised.

Afterward the very moving ceremony,  we walked a walk that Angie joined us on during one of her visits and, in the words of the Humanist Celebrant, “rejoiced that she had lived, delighted in our friendship and were glad that we had walked some of her path with her.”

View of Carn Brea over some gorse
Daffodils flowering on the verge on the last part of our walk
 
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Posted by on January 24, 2022 in Uncategorized

 

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Clematis Armandii and A Humanist Farewell

The overnight winds blew off a bunch of buds from the Clematis Armandii so we brought them inside and very soon the buds had opened.

Clematis Armandii

Clematis Armandii

This morning saw a celebration of the life of a friend with a Humanist Ceremony and a Green burial in a beautiful spot.  A true Cornishman, a speaker of Cornish and a Cornish Bard,  tributes were paid to him in both English and Cornish and at the end we all sang Going Up Camborne Hill  in Cornish.

Bre Gammbronn

Bre Gammbronn

At the green burial site another friend read these lovely words written by Rabindranath Tagore ( 1861 – 1941)

Farewell My Friends – Rabindranath Tagore ( 1861 – 1941)

Farewell My Friends
It was beautiful
As long as it lasted
The journey of my life.
I have no regrets
Whatsoever said
The pain I’ll leave behind.
Those dear hearts
Who love and care…
And the strings pulling
At the heart and soul…
The strong arms
That held me up
When my own strength
Let me down.
At the turning of my life
I came across
Good friends,
Friends who stood by me
Even when time raced me by.
Farewell, farewell My friends
I smile and
Bid you goodbye.
No, shed no tears
For I need them not
All I need is your smile.
If you feel sad
Do think of me
For that’s what I’ll like
When you live in the hearts
Of those you love
Remember then
You never die.

 

St Piran's flag and daffodils at the green burial site

St Piran’s flag and daffodils at the green burial site

 

 

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Suffragette Garden, Mobile Library and Thomas Hardy

1   We spent a pleasing hour or two choosing beautiful plants for my Suffragette Garden, a small plot in the front which we have just finished clearing. Everything growing in this space will be purple, white or green to honour my Great Granny who was a Suffragette. She was imprisoned in Holloway for her ‘misdeeds’ while fighting for the right for women to vote and we are very proud of her. I have had a Suffragette Garden wherever I have lived.

2   Driving home, we saw a Mobile Library van, stuffed with books and with such a pleasing slogan on the back, “The universe at your fingertips!”

The Mobile Library van travelling around Cornwall

3   The following poem by Thomas Hardy was read this morning at a Humanist Funeral we went to. It was a beautiful and very moving ceremony to celebrate the life, and to mark the untimely death, of the son of friends of ours. The same poem was chosen by my parents for their funerals so it has a particular place in my heart.

Afterwards by Thomas Hardy

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,
And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
‘He was a man who used to notice such things’?

If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid’s soundless blink,
The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight
Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,
‘To him this must have been a familiar sight.’

If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,
When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,
One may say, ‘He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,
But he could do little for them; and now he is gone.’

If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,
Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees
Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,
‘He was one who had an eye for such mysteries’?

And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom
And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,
Till they rise again, as they were a new bell’s boom,
‘He hears it not now, but used to notice such things’

4      Just want to add – thinking of friends in the path of Isaac and hoping for everyone’s safety.
 

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