"Let children walk with Nature,
let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life,
their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life."
-- John Muir
let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life,
their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life."
-- John Muir
Memorial Service
Intent
This service was written to celebrate the life and death of Alexander Davidson. He was cremated and the service was held in the funeral home's chapel. The service is non-denominational but spiritual.
Preparation
Prior to his death, Mr. Davidson made clear that he wished to be cremated, and his wife seconded that wish. Upon his death, his remains were taken to the funeral home and cremated. A preparatory interview was held with Mrs. Davidson (the widow) and their two adult children. Grandchildren and siblings were not invited to the interview, as they were not as close, and his widow did not wish it. Mrs. Davidson expressed a strong need for the service to be non-denominational in nature, and very short. Their children agreed.
Mr. Davidson's ashes were interred in a decorative mahogany box for the memorial service, and placed in the funeral home's main chapel, on a table to the right of the chapel's lectern. His wife's favorite picture of him was set on top of the box. All religious symbols (crosses, etc) were removed from the chapel prior to the service, per Mrs. Davidson's wishes. Music was chosen with Mr. Davidson's Scottish heritage in mind.
Guests were ushered into the chapel by Mr. Davidson's grandsons. Close family sat in the first two rows of pews, and others sat where they wished. Quiet music was playing in the background ("Meet Joe Black – Theme", by James Horner) as people were seated. The minister entered as the music dimmed, and walked to the lectern.
Minister:
We have come together today to say goodbye to Alexander “Sandy” Davidson, to commit his body to ashes, and to comfort one another in our time of grief. For grieve we must. As Sarah York said at a funeral in New York after 9/11, “The grief that does not speak in some way – through crying, talking, rituals, tributes, or creative expression – remains unresolved.” There is an anonymous poem that speaks to me of moments like this, moments of sadness, of emptiness, and of loneliness, and what we may think of them.
Not how did he die, but how did he live?
Not what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.
Not, what was his church, nor what was his creed?
But had he befriended those really in need?
Was he ever ready, with word of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
But how many were sorry when he passed away.
-- Anonymous
Minister:
The author is unknown, but the sentiments are universal. Sandy … my grandfather lived a long life, a productive life. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but held his spiritual beliefs close to his heart. He didn't want us to grieve over his death, but to celebrate his life. Still, it is so difficult to smile when the tears fill our soul. We miss him, and we are still suffering with the hole left in our lives that used to be filled with his presence.
In keeping with the desires of both my grandfather and my grandmother, our service today will be brief. Please bow your heads if you wish, and join me in a few minutes of silence as we listen to Amazing Grace, by The Scottish Pipe and Drum Band.
There was silence as the full four minutes of Amazing Grace was played. It is an instrumental piece, with no spoken words.
Eulogy, spoken by Minister:
This has been a difficult time for all of us. I know that Grandma, my mother, my uncle, and each of you here today, has been grieving in his or her own way. Sometimes, the pain seems staggering, and I have to keep reminding myself that it's okay. It's alright to hurt because Grandpa is gone. It's okay to cry.
There are so many things I remember about Grandpa. I think what I will always remember most about him is his smell, that faint hint of flavored tobacco and smoke that was never overpowering, but always HIM. When he and Grandma went off to Florida with their friends, I would sometimes sneak one of his shirts home, so that I had something of his to hold onto. I always felt safe around him, and loved.
He wasn't big on words. He shared his love instead. He shared his music, the bagpipes you just heard and other Scottish music. He shared his comedy and laughter, Billy Connelly and other artists. He enjoyed his beer, and I remember pouring it for him with the “ice cream top” he liked so much.
Grandma, he loved you more than anything else in this world. He gave up so much to be with you, and never once regretted it. When he was with you, life was fulfilled. He worked hard jobs, long hours, without complaint. And he reveled in your love of him. Mom, you were always and WILL always be his little girl. Sandy, he was always proud of you, his son, the one to carry on his name. And we grandchildren were blessed with his attention and spoiling throughout our childhood.
The minister turned to the box of ashes and picture.
Minister:
Grandpa, you are missed. You are grieved. You are loved. I know you didn't want us to spend all our time crying, but I hope you'll forgive us as we mourn, each in our own way. Please know, you'll always be with us in our hearts, forever a part of us. We wish you well. I hope that the angels can manage to pour your ale with the ice cream top.
The minister turned to the guests.
Minister:
It seems to me that the best bereavement poems are all written by Anonymous. And so let us close by reading together the poem “Comfort for the Bereaved” as printed in your Order of Service.
All shall read:
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlit-ripened grain,
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awake in the morning hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.
Minister:
Thank you all for attending. Grandpa must be smiling as he watches us, knowing so many have come together to remember him. Please join the family for a reception in the adjoining hall after paying your respects.
The minister recessed, followed by the close family.
This service was written to celebrate the life and death of Alexander Davidson. He was cremated and the service was held in the funeral home's chapel. The service is non-denominational but spiritual.
Preparation
Prior to his death, Mr. Davidson made clear that he wished to be cremated, and his wife seconded that wish. Upon his death, his remains were taken to the funeral home and cremated. A preparatory interview was held with Mrs. Davidson (the widow) and their two adult children. Grandchildren and siblings were not invited to the interview, as they were not as close, and his widow did not wish it. Mrs. Davidson expressed a strong need for the service to be non-denominational in nature, and very short. Their children agreed.
Mr. Davidson's ashes were interred in a decorative mahogany box for the memorial service, and placed in the funeral home's main chapel, on a table to the right of the chapel's lectern. His wife's favorite picture of him was set on top of the box. All religious symbols (crosses, etc) were removed from the chapel prior to the service, per Mrs. Davidson's wishes. Music was chosen with Mr. Davidson's Scottish heritage in mind.
Guests were ushered into the chapel by Mr. Davidson's grandsons. Close family sat in the first two rows of pews, and others sat where they wished. Quiet music was playing in the background ("Meet Joe Black – Theme", by James Horner) as people were seated. The minister entered as the music dimmed, and walked to the lectern.
Minister:
We have come together today to say goodbye to Alexander “Sandy” Davidson, to commit his body to ashes, and to comfort one another in our time of grief. For grieve we must. As Sarah York said at a funeral in New York after 9/11, “The grief that does not speak in some way – through crying, talking, rituals, tributes, or creative expression – remains unresolved.” There is an anonymous poem that speaks to me of moments like this, moments of sadness, of emptiness, and of loneliness, and what we may think of them.
Not how did he die, but how did he live?
Not what did he gain, but what did he give?
These are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.
Not, what was his church, nor what was his creed?
But had he befriended those really in need?
Was he ever ready, with word of good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
But how many were sorry when he passed away.
-- Anonymous
Minister:
The author is unknown, but the sentiments are universal. Sandy … my grandfather lived a long life, a productive life. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but held his spiritual beliefs close to his heart. He didn't want us to grieve over his death, but to celebrate his life. Still, it is so difficult to smile when the tears fill our soul. We miss him, and we are still suffering with the hole left in our lives that used to be filled with his presence.
In keeping with the desires of both my grandfather and my grandmother, our service today will be brief. Please bow your heads if you wish, and join me in a few minutes of silence as we listen to Amazing Grace, by The Scottish Pipe and Drum Band.
There was silence as the full four minutes of Amazing Grace was played. It is an instrumental piece, with no spoken words.
Eulogy, spoken by Minister:
This has been a difficult time for all of us. I know that Grandma, my mother, my uncle, and each of you here today, has been grieving in his or her own way. Sometimes, the pain seems staggering, and I have to keep reminding myself that it's okay. It's alright to hurt because Grandpa is gone. It's okay to cry.
There are so many things I remember about Grandpa. I think what I will always remember most about him is his smell, that faint hint of flavored tobacco and smoke that was never overpowering, but always HIM. When he and Grandma went off to Florida with their friends, I would sometimes sneak one of his shirts home, so that I had something of his to hold onto. I always felt safe around him, and loved.
He wasn't big on words. He shared his love instead. He shared his music, the bagpipes you just heard and other Scottish music. He shared his comedy and laughter, Billy Connelly and other artists. He enjoyed his beer, and I remember pouring it for him with the “ice cream top” he liked so much.
Grandma, he loved you more than anything else in this world. He gave up so much to be with you, and never once regretted it. When he was with you, life was fulfilled. He worked hard jobs, long hours, without complaint. And he reveled in your love of him. Mom, you were always and WILL always be his little girl. Sandy, he was always proud of you, his son, the one to carry on his name. And we grandchildren were blessed with his attention and spoiling throughout our childhood.
The minister turned to the box of ashes and picture.
Minister:
Grandpa, you are missed. You are grieved. You are loved. I know you didn't want us to spend all our time crying, but I hope you'll forgive us as we mourn, each in our own way. Please know, you'll always be with us in our hearts, forever a part of us. We wish you well. I hope that the angels can manage to pour your ale with the ice cream top.
The minister turned to the guests.
Minister:
It seems to me that the best bereavement poems are all written by Anonymous. And so let us close by reading together the poem “Comfort for the Bereaved” as printed in your Order of Service.
All shall read:
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlit-ripened grain,
I am the gentle Autumn's rain.
When you awake in the morning hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.
Minister:
Thank you all for attending. Grandpa must be smiling as he watches us, knowing so many have come together to remember him. Please join the family for a reception in the adjoining hall after paying your respects.
The minister recessed, followed by the close family.
