Sunday, 15 February 2009

sweet little mystery

Death is a weird thing isn’t it?

I haven’t thought about it much of the time I’ve been alive but it is kinda there all the time staring back at you. Then suddenly someone you know and care about more than average passes away, or a stranger’s demises touches you in an unexpected way and you are left feeling more vulnerable and closer to your own.

Slowly and inevitably the heroes and vilians of your youth fall away and you realise that your life is following just behind theirs. Is my life measured in Beatles, two of them have already passed on or is it over when the last person that marked my informative years is no more?

So sometimes I think about it, maybe because Krissie is listening to John Martin, who will write no more love songs. in one room whilst I listen to a John Peel collection in another room, knowing that he will never spin a vinyl again.

And lately when I have thought like this the thought that comes questioning is this – where do I want to be after? And how, ashes or dust.

My friend Tim who came in the autumn said it doesn’t matter when I asked him if he had thought about his final resting place, but I don’t know if I am able to say that with such apparent confidence, or even to say it does matter. I am in limbo.

Maybe seeing Peter’s grave recently is still troubling me subconsciously but death has a nasty manner of sneaking up on you and I don’t think I want to be buried in the local village.

And would they want me anyhow?

7 comments:

Martin Mackenzie said...

Me neither; the thought of rotting in Vaour ?!?! - I'd rather be the subject of a rat shredding in Lower Cheam, body recovered (likely in several sacks by the Richmond Constabularly). But then again, I'm biased. Like you, I'm a Local.

Martin Mackenzie said...

To be less flippant, a friend of mine has recently opened a funeral parlour in Les Cabannes, about 15 km from this bogspot, as she feels that the whole 'dying and burying business' is woefully undertaken (Excuse Me, that pun really really was unintended).
But it is Serious and I welcome all debate about death, our lives, and what follows, as it is our survivors who have to try and put the pieces back in place when our jigsaws get dishevelled.

popps said...

Hi Martin, what do you say we could talk about this together when i come over for Denise's birthday on Tuesday.
What is the point of all this technology if the person i'm talking to death about lives down the road?

Anne Hodgson said...

My mother's ashes are sitting someplace in my brother's house as our big family debates when she may be put into the ground. One idea was to take a part of them here to Germany, where she was born, and bury the rest next to my father on Drummond Island. But I felt that was perverse. I want all of her in one place. Even if it's far away, I want to be able to visit "her". So she's going to be with my dad. I think that's the most important bit: A body belongs with the body she/he loved and made children with.

popps said...

That sounds about perfect to me Anne, i was worried when i read about you possibly splitting the ashes!
It's strange because when it comes to this we are entering the realms of superstitions and when you are there its best to be, er, superstitious in which case the ashes should be together me thinks.
i wonder hat you would feel about your own ashes...but...you wouldn't be wondering and if you were you would probably be happy to see your memory shared...who knows..krissie's mum is very ill and i think it's going to be soon in our house again....you really have to read Lovely Bones before you are tempted to see the film...
Something i think i am learning is that someone we love never dies, sure there is a HUGE grief at their parting but very soon we find them all around us, within us, us..........
There is a way of taking some of the ashes and having a diamond made from them....

carol said...

Strange for me to read this, strange you should mention Tim saying it doesn't matter about his final resting place. When he left me it was only 4 months after my mum died and I was filled with death and grief and one of my first thoughts was But Tim, what about when you die? Will I be there at the funeral? What will I be there?
An entirely inappropriate and strange thought perhaps, but somehow death sorts out very clearly what you mean to someone, and what they mean to you. their importance in your life. In every day terms, I hardly saw my mum, only twice a year and yet I miss her like crazy and think of her every day. I have a few of her ashes that I scooped up in a tissue packet after they dumped the ashes rather unceremoniously on the grass next to the plaque that my Dad chose. I keep them in a tiny thimble box amongst the disused cottons and zips of her old sewing box that she inherited from my Grandmother.
In the end where we end up after we die will be determined by the people who love us the most. who we are closest to. In Tim's case I imagine, I hope, it will be his daughters, who will decide between them.

popps said...

hey Carol, long time no see/hear but thanks for adding to my blog.
As you know death is sniffing around this family once again and i'm not sure anyone has th estrength to drive it away with a big stick.
I like the combination of "unceremoniously" and "disused cottons" that you came up with....
And i agree, that after, they seem to be even MORE present.

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