What Would They Say About You?

One of my favourite books is The Telegraph Book of Obituaries.

I know it sounds morbid, but it's actually hugely inspiring. Beautifully written pieces about the lives of extraordinary people. They make you want to climb mountains, swim oceans and paint masterpieces.

One of the (many) reasons I quit drinking was thinking about what people would say about me if I died.

SM - so much promise, so much talent.....loved a party.

Not exactly inspirational.

Unlike Q's eulogy, which Mr SM delivered on Friday to a congregation of six hundred people who'd travelled to Q's home town in Scotland from all over the world.

Q packed a huge amount into his (too short) forty-seven years, and made an impact on hundreds of people, so this reading - A Song of Living by Amelia Josephine Burr - was perfect for him:

Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
I have sent up my gladness on wings, to be lost in the blue of the sky.
I have run and leaped with the rain, I have taken the wind to my breast.
My cheeks like a drowsy child to the face of the earth I have pressed.
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.

I have kissed young love on the lips, I have heard his song to the end,
I have struck my hand like a seal in the loyal hand of a friend.
I have known the peace of heaven, the comfort of work done well.
I have longed for death in the darkness and risen alive out of hell.
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.

I gave a share of my soul to the world, when and where my course is run.
I know that another shall finish the task I surely must leave undone.
I know that no flower, nor flint was in vain on the path I trod.
As one looks on a face through a window, through life I have looked on God,
Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.                         

Would you be able to say that about your life?

It's never too late to make sure that you could....

Love SM x

Friendship (again)

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.

C.S. Lewis

Thank you, again, for your wonderful messages of support following the death of my friend, Q. It is really appreciated, and the thought of all of you, out there somewhere, makes things easier.

I have written a few posts on friendship over the last year or so (click here for one on how booze affects our friendships), but the last few days have made me think about it in a different way.

As news of Q's death has spread there has been an outpouring of grief on Facebook. A remembrance page has been set up for friends and family to post pictures and memories.

(I was searching for another word for death, but I hate them all. 'Passing' is okay if you're talking about wind, but not a human being. 'Loss' makes it sound as if they've been mislaid on a station platform).

Mr SM has been asked to deliver the eulogy at Q's funeral. He is terrified. He was awake most of last night trying to work out how to get the tone just right, and worrying about breaking down in front of hundreds of people.

Trying to describe (in just a few minutes) a man and his life, and a little of what he meant to all those who are mourning him, is a horribly hard task.

It's made me think how sad it is that it takes a death to make us realise how wonderful our friends are, about how they've enriched our lives and what makes them unique.

It's all too easy to focus on negatives, on silly day to day irritations (a joke misfired, a thank you not delivered, an invitation turned down) and to forget the big picture.

So I've made a pact with myself. I will make the time to imagine a Facebook remembrance page for each of my close friends - the photos, the memories, the lists of all their awesome qualities, and I'm going to feel grateful for them now. While they are still here. And I'm going to take the time to tell them so.

As for the booze, I don't miss it at all.

My friend S told me that when her father died, she and her siblings flew from various parts of the world to be with her mother (a recovering alcoholic). Their greatest fear was that, after two years sober, their mother would be drinking again.

As they gathered together, the first thing S's Mum said to them was "I know what you're all thinking, and it's okay. I'm not going to drink." S had never been more proud of her mother, nor loved her more.

It's at times like this that you need to be a rock, to protect your family and hold them close. Without the drink I feel strong.

(See my post: When Life Throws You Lemons).

Thank you again,

SM x