Man's life is but a working day
Whose tasks are set aright;
A time to work, a time to pray,
And then a quiet night.
And then, please God, a quiet night
Where palms are green and robes are white;
A long-drawn breath, a balm for sorrow,
And all things lovely on the morrow.
--Christina G. Rossetti
I've spent the morning with my fellow co-workers at the funeral of one of our own, a mechanic that has worked here for 26 years. Another cancer death, this time of prostate.
I've been to many funerals ever since I was a small child. My parents took us along with them, so I pretty much saw death at a very young age.
Funerals vary widely depending on the person who has passed away. They can be large or small. They can be warm and inviting, others quite impersonal and basic.
I have experienced all types. The one that stands out the most is of a woman who wasn't very nice. As I sat there in the pew, I couldn't think of one encounter with her that actually was pleasant. In fact, my last encounter with her was awful as she complained about a baby's crying annoying her.
You have no idea how depressing and sad that made me feel. Here was a life that has ended on this earth and her exit was probably welcomed by the people in her life. I wondered how many of them were sitting there thinking the same as I, racking their brain to remember a good memory.
This morning's funeral was quite the opposite. You can tell if someone is loved by the warmth of the words and the memories reminisced with a tenderness that suggests one thing . . . . this person was loved. That mechanic (Paul) was loved by his friends and family.
I want to feel that kind of loving. I certainly know which type of funeral I want for myself. I learned something else this morning. Always try to make the funeral or at least call or send a card. The family need to know that people cared for their loved one. The funeral isn't for the one who passed, it's for the family. \
Have a blessed day everyone.
I've spent the morning with my fellow co-workers at the funeral of one of our own, a mechanic that has worked here for 26 years. Another cancer death, this time of prostate.
I've been to many funerals ever since I was a small child. My parents took us along with them, so I pretty much saw death at a very young age.
Funerals vary widely depending on the person who has passed away. They can be large or small. They can be warm and inviting, others quite impersonal and basic.
I have experienced all types. The one that stands out the most is of a woman who wasn't very nice. As I sat there in the pew, I couldn't think of one encounter with her that actually was pleasant. In fact, my last encounter with her was awful as she complained about a baby's crying annoying her.
You have no idea how depressing and sad that made me feel. Here was a life that has ended on this earth and her exit was probably welcomed by the people in her life. I wondered how many of them were sitting there thinking the same as I, racking their brain to remember a good memory.
This morning's funeral was quite the opposite. You can tell if someone is loved by the warmth of the words and the memories reminisced with a tenderness that suggests one thing . . . . this person was loved. That mechanic (Paul) was loved by his friends and family.
I want to feel that kind of loving. I certainly know which type of funeral I want for myself. I learned something else this morning. Always try to make the funeral or at least call or send a card. The family need to know that people cared for their loved one. The funeral isn't for the one who passed, it's for the family. \
Have a blessed day everyone.
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