As We Look Back

As we look back over time
We find ourselves wondering
Did we remember to thank you enough
For all you have done for us?
For all the times you were by our sides
To help and support us
To celebrate our successes
To understand our problems
And accept our defeats?
Or for teaching us by your example,
The value of hard work, good judgement,
Courage and integrity?
We wonder if we ever thanked you
For the sacrifices you made.
To let us have the very best?
And for the simple things
Like laughter, smiles and times we shared?
If we have forgotten to show our
Gratitude enough for all the things you did,
We're thanking you now.
And we are hoping you knew all along,
How much you meant to us.

-- Clare Jones

Faithful Gardener

Everything that slows us down and forces patience,

everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help.

Gardening is an instrument of grace.

Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit,

who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth,

and without light, nothing flowers.

-- May Sarton

Belief

I have to believe
That you still exist
Somewhere,
That you still watch me
Sometimes
That you still love me
Somehow.

I have to believe
That life has meaning
Somehow
That I am useful here
Sometimes,
That I make small differences
Somewhere.

I have to believe
That I need to stay here
For some time,
That all this teaches me
Something,
So that I can meet you again
Somewhere.

-- Ann Thorp

Advice from La Llorona

Each grief has its unique side.

Choose the one that appeals to you.

Go gently.

Your body needs energy to repair the amputation.

Humor phantom pain.

Your brain cells are soaked with salt;

connections fail unexpectedly and often.

Ask for help.

Accept help.

Read your grief like the daily newspaper:

headlines may have information you need.

Scream. Drop-kick the garbage can across the street.

Don’t feel guilty if you have a good time.

Don’t act as if you haven’t been hit by a Mack Truck.

Do things a little differently

but don’t make a lot of changes.

Revel in contradiction.

Talk to the person who died.

Give her a piece of your mind.

Try to touch someone at least once a day.

Approach grief with determination.

Pretend the finish line doesn’t keep receding.

Lean into the pain.

You can’t outrun it.

-- Deborah A. Miranda

Birthdays, HolidaysKateyanne UnullisiFebruary 18, 2018First Year Milestones

But Once

I shall pass this way but once;

any good that I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being;

let me do it now.

Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.

-- Etienne de Grellet

Life is a Journey

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination
And life is a journey:
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age;
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion
And then perhaps to wisdom.

From weakness to strength or
From strength to weakness
And often back again;
From health to sickness,
And we pray to health again.

From offence to forgiveness,
From loneliness to love,
From joy to gratitude,
From pain to compassion,
From grief to understanding,
From fear to faith.

From defeat to defeat to defeat
Until, not looking backwards or ahead,
We see that victory lies not
At some high point along the way
But in having made the journey
Step by step,
A sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning
And death a destination
And life is a journey.

--Rabbi Alvin Fine from Jewish Reform high holiday prayer book, Gates of Repentance

At Home, At the Crematorium, At The Funeral HomeKateyanne UnullisiFebruary 18, 2018Commemorative Event

Four Candles

The first candle represents our grief.
The pain of losing you is intense.
It reminds us of the depth of our love for you.
This second candle represents our courage.
To confront our sorrow,
To comfort each other,
To change our lives.
This third candle we light in your memory.
For the times we laughed,
The times we cried,
The times we were angry with each other,
The silly things you did,
The caring and joy you gave us.
This fourth candle we light for our love.
We light this candle that your light will always shine.
As we enter this holiday season and share this night of remembrance
with our family and friends.
We cherish the special place in our hearts
that will always be reserved for you.
We thank you for the gift
your living brought to each of us.
We love you.
We remember you.

-- Unknown

At the Crematorium, At The Funeral Home, At HomeKateyanne UnullisiFebruary 18, 2018Commemorative Event

His Laughter

His laughter was better than the birds in the morning,
His smile turned the edge of the wind,
His memory disarms death and charms the surly grave.
We cannot grieve for more than a little while
For he lives in the earth around us,
And laughs from the sky.

-- C. Day Lewis

At Home, At the Crematorium, At The Funeral HomeKateyanne UnullisiFebruary 18, 2018Commemorative Event

The Friend

In a circle of friends, the one who dies first
Is the friend you will never forget:
This is the death that unhinges you
From the trappings of everyday life
And makes you – suddenly – absurdly grateful
For each new breath – beginning with this one.

This is the death that could break you apart
In every way possible; that persuades you –
In memory of that friend – to turn away
From whatever refuses to speak to your heart
From whatever threatens to numb your soul
From whatever it is that revels in death.

Yet this, too, is the friend you need by your side.
Listen. Together they urge you: Live your life.

-- Alice Kavounas

At Home, At the Crematorium, At The Funeral HomeKateyanne UnullisiFebruary 18, 2018Commemorative Event

Remember Me

To the living, I am gone.
To the sorrowful, I will never return.
To the angry, I was cheated,
But to the happy, I am at peace,
And to the faithful, I have never left.
I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.
So as you stand upon a shore, gazing at a beautiful sea - remember me.
As you look in awe at a mighty forest and its grand majesty - remember me.
As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity - remember me.
Remember me in your heart, your thoughts, and your memories of the times we
loved, the times we cried, the times we fought, the times we laughed.
For if you always think of me, I will have never gone.
-- Unknown

At Home, At the Crematorium, At The Funeral HomeKateyanne UnullisiFebruary 18, 2018Commemorative Event

Return This Body

This body that has borne her all her life from birth to death, that gave her breath to live and sight to see, that has served her every need, that has shown you the beauty of her unique person in its eyes and made you aware of her presence in your heart, and without which she would be a mystery to you; we now return to its source with the grace it deserves from us, without our attachment to it but with our lasting love for her.

At the Cemetery, At the Crematorium, Ash Scattering, BurialAmy CunninghamSeptember 30, 2017Final Resting Place

From the Garden of Proserpine

We are not sure of sorrow,
And joy was never sure;
To-day will die to-morrow;
Time stoops to no man’s lure;
And love, grown faint and fretful,
With lips but half regretful
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful
Weeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light:
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight:
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,

Nor days nor things diurnal;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.

-- Algernon Charles Swinburne

Physical GatheringAmy CunninghamSeptember 27, 2017First Anniversary

AfterWards

Take her not from me.
Let it be this hand
Who wipes the folds of her flesh —
A final encore to fading days.
With each tender stroke,
May her seasoned soul unwind its threads
from this mortal coil.
With each grieving caress,
May her enduring love weave more tightly
into the whole of my being.

Take her not from me,
Until the last essence of who she was is truly gone,
And I have captured only what she left for me —
In this hand and heart.

-- Pashta MaryMoon

Group Readiness, Washing and DressingAmy CunninghamSeptember 26, 2017Preparing The Body

Living Each Day

Now I am gone, now I am lost to you

Find me again just as you used to do:

In the house – when you go from room to room you’ll find

The bits and pieces that I’ve left behind.

In the street – of course . . . I’ve stopped to window-shop;

You carry on, my love, I’ll catch you up.

At night – as darkness slowly fills the sky:

I’m late; don’t fret; I’ll be there by and by.

At morning – when the sky is still blue-black,

I had to go out early: I’ll be back.

In sunshine – as you peer into the glare –

A shape that seems to be both light and air.

In rain – as you look out and people pass –

One leaves a reflection printed on the glass.

In the garden – when you doze away the hours

I pass with a smile on my face, and my arms full of flowers.

  -- Lisa Kitson

The Return of the King

“There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tower

high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while.

The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up

out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him.

For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him

that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing:

there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.” 

-- J.R.R. Tolkien

Birthdays, HolidaysAmy CunninghamSeptember 21, 2017First Year Milestones

Memorial Day

It is easily forgotten, year to

year, exactly where the plot is,

though the place is entirely familiar

a willow tree by a curving roadway   

sweeping black asphalt with tender leaves;

damp grass strewn with flower boxes,

canvas chairs, darkskinned old ladies

circling in draped black crepe family stones,   

fingers cramped red at the knuckles, discolored   

nails, fresh soil for new plants, old rosaries;

such fingers kneading the damp earth gently down   

on new roots, black humus caught in grey hair   

brushed back, and the single waterfaucet,

birdlike upon its grey pipe stem,

a stream opening at its foot.

We know the stories that are told,

by starts and stops, by bent men at strange joy   

regarding the precise enactments of their own   

gesturing. And among the women there will be   

a naming of families, a counting off, an ordering.

The morning may be brilliant; the season

is one of brilliances sunlight through

the fountained willow behind us, its splayed   

shadow spreading westward, our shadows westward,   

irregular across damp grass, the close-set stones.

It may be that since our walk there is faltering,

moving in careful steps around snow-on-the-mountain,   

bluebells and zebragrass toward that place

between the willow and the waterfaucet, the way   

is lost, that we have no practiced step there,

and walking, our own sway and balance, fails us.

  -- Michael Anania

The Inevitable

While I was fearing it, it came,

But came with less of fear,

Because that fearing it so long

Had almost made it dear.

There is a fitting a dismay,

A fitting a despair.

'Tis harder knowing it is due,

Than knowing it is here.

The trying on the utmost,

The morning it is new,

Is terribler than wearing it

A whole existence through.

-- Emily Dickinson

Birthdays, Holidays, Virtual GatheringAmy CunninghamSeptember 21, 2017First Year Milestones

Return This Body

This body that has borne her all her life from birth to death,

that gave her breath to live and sight to see,

that has served her every need, that has shown you the beauty of her unique person

in its eyes and made you aware of her presence in your heart,

and without which she would be a mystery to you;

we now return to its source with the grace it deserves from us,

without our attachment to it but with our lasting love for her.

At Home, At the Cemetery, At the CrematoriumAmy CunninghamSeptember 21, 2017Commemorative Event

Not Gone

Death has nothing to do with going away.
The sun sets
The moon sets
But they are not gone.

-- Rumi

At Home, At the Cemetery, At the Crematorium, At The Funeral HomeAmy CunninghamSeptember 21, 2017Commemorative Event

from The Tempest

We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

 -- William Shakespeare‘The Tempest’ Act IV, Scene I

At the Crematorium, At The Funeral HomeAmy CunninghamSeptember 21, 2017Commemorative Event