“All the same, thought Madame Michaud, you dress and adorn the dead who are destined to rot in the earth. It’s a final homage, a supreme proof of love to those we hold dear.” – Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky
I’ve thought a lot about funerals lately. I guess I can agree with Madame Michaud to a point; funerals can be a proof of love. Or they can be a racket that takes money from vulnerable people without even blinking. I have experienced this in recent months and don’t want my children to go through it. I want a plain wooden casket with no frills. I don’t think it will be necessary to offer refreshments to the mourners, or generic counseling to my kids, or bookmarks, or thank you cards with my obit inscribed on them.
“Still, since you brung it up, I’ll say this: my feeling bout buryin’ ain’t the same as your’n. You remember that.” – Love Simpson, Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns
I hope to be buried near the ocean. I would like my funeral message to be preached by a true believer who will tell those in attendance about Christ. And I hope my kids will have a few funny stories to tell about me.
It (the ocean) is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometime I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel. – from All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
Jacksonville Beach from the Pier
The following is a poem I wrote this past April. I’ll always remember the wonder of the starfish in the ocean and my kids’ enjoyment of the experience.