RE: what's an atheist funeral like?
April 8, 2014 at 1:35 pm
(This post was last modified: April 8, 2014 at 3:13 pm by Cyberman.)
I remember the funeral of my Sam so well. I had to choose one hymn to be sung at the service, so after some deliberation I decided on "All Things Bright And Beautiful" because that's exactly what she was. I just muted out singing the reference to "the lord god" whenever it came up. All through the service, every time the response "amen" was required, I substituted "oh Sam" instead, since it was after all her day and I wasn't having it hijacked and turned into a party political broadcast.
I'd also been allowed to stand up and read my own personal tribute to my Princess - not a eulogy; that's what you say about dead people - so I spent about a week writing out exactly what I wanted to say. Later I was congratulated by everyone, including the vicar, for making an impressive speech; genuine or not, it was nice to hear. My speech led into the playing of a song that I'd been allowed to choose, something holding a deeply personal meaning for me. I didn't need to think about it. I chose "My Heart Will Go On" from one of Sam's favourite films. Partly for the message but mainly because I will never forget the one special day when we were at home and she put that song on, then with her arms around my neck she gazed into my eyes and sang to me - for those few minutes, we two were the only people in the Universe. When it was played at the service, I was somehow managing to hold it together right up until I heard someone start to cry. That's when I fell to pieces. Even now, just the thought of that song wipes me out - in fact I can feel myself going as I type.
It was the most agonising, yet oddly beautiful, day of my entire life. I hope my own day will be as affecting. And if anyone has a long face at my funeral, I'll never speak to them again.
I'd also been allowed to stand up and read my own personal tribute to my Princess - not a eulogy; that's what you say about dead people - so I spent about a week writing out exactly what I wanted to say. Later I was congratulated by everyone, including the vicar, for making an impressive speech; genuine or not, it was nice to hear. My speech led into the playing of a song that I'd been allowed to choose, something holding a deeply personal meaning for me. I didn't need to think about it. I chose "My Heart Will Go On" from one of Sam's favourite films. Partly for the message but mainly because I will never forget the one special day when we were at home and she put that song on, then with her arms around my neck she gazed into my eyes and sang to me - for those few minutes, we two were the only people in the Universe. When it was played at the service, I was somehow managing to hold it together right up until I heard someone start to cry. That's when I fell to pieces. Even now, just the thought of that song wipes me out - in fact I can feel myself going as I type.
It was the most agonising, yet oddly beautiful, day of my entire life. I hope my own day will be as affecting. And if anyone has a long face at my funeral, I'll never speak to them again.
At the age of five, Skagra decided emphatically that God did not exist. This revelation tends to make most people in the universe who have it react in one of two ways - with relief or with despair. Only Skagra responded to it by thinking, 'Wait a second. That means there's a situation vacant.'
