The memorial

It was a Friday in June. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky and the temperature was up to 30 degrees Celsius. That is 86 degrees Fahrenheit.

As usual, I was early. The only funeral I want to be late for is my own. As I waited for the clock to approach twelve, I walked around the graveyard. I find peace by reading old headstones. Some have names with long pedigrees, while others have names that are clearly occupational. The Royal family has a residence not far from here and a surname on a stone indicated that the occupant had worked there.

It seemed like everyone was here. Some had dressed for the occasion, while others had chosen outfits according to the temperature. Some in a suit and tie, and others in shorts and flip-flops. What they all had in common was that they were here to say goodbye to a good friend.

It was John’s memorial service. He had touched many people from different backgrounds during an active life. The coffin was draped in the flag as we do when heroes leave us. John was a hero to many of us. Knowing that he now rests under the flag is both completely unreal and a nice consolation.

Death is so definitive. It’s too late to have that cup of coffee or that conversation you thought about but never got around to because life got in the way. Memorial services are a place of mixed emotions. It’s sad and soothing at the same time. It is a place for contemplation, for remembering and for saying goodbye.  Smiles and tears are not far removed from each other in a funeral. This one was no different. 

The memorial service was held in a very ordinary chapel. But there was no priest present. It was a bit unusual, but everything is changing so why not funerals and memorial services too.

In memorial services it is still common practice that a priest preaches from the Bible, about parables and God and then try to relate this to the deceased person´s way of life. There was none of this here. The session was led by a warm and skilled master of ceremony. There was a pleasant proximity to John in everything from the choice of music to the stories told. Laughter broke out several times when old stories were shared. This was in many ways John’s last greeting to those of us present and ended with a standing ovation from us to him who had meant so much to so many.

A final wish from John was that his ashes should be spread out to sea. John will sail on the seven seas forever, but the memory of him will stay here with us.

Frank Sinatra’s I did it my way followed the coffin out of the chapel. John did everything his way. To the very end.