There she comes

We met to say our farewells to Deb today.  A sad yet joyous celebration during which we heard Pink Floyd (Shine on you crazy diamond), Nick Drake (When day is done) and Barwick Green (theme tune to the Archers) at the very end. 

Some people sang a hymn, prayed and then some people followed her to the graveside where we threw sprigs of rosemary into her grave. 



The final reading, by Bishop Brent (What is dying), which I'd never heard of before is quoted here.  Even this godless wench gained some comfort from it and found it extremely beautiful.



A ship sails and I stand watching
till she fades on the horizon,
and someone at my side
says, "She is gone".
Gone where? Gone from my sight,
that is all; she is just as
large as when I saw her...
the diminished size and total
loss of sight is in me, not in her,
and just at the moment
when someone at my side
says "she is gone", there are others
who are watching her coming,
and other voices take up the glad shout,
 "there she comes!" ...and that is dying.

After tea, strawberry and cream scones, sandwiches and chocolate cake we all went our separate ways.  Some of us to the pub where we laughed and cried some more and remarked that it was ironic that Bowie's death was announced on the day of her funeral.  She was a fan.