A lone bagpiper played for him.
Don's Funeral was held at our place and a lone bagpiper played for him in the late autumn sunshine. After the shit which went on and his suffering, the girls and I sat side by side, and no tears at all much. There was a feeling of marvellous calm. He was piped down our long driveway and again at the cemetary which is at Wauchope and surrounded by gum trees... we are traditionalists this way.
The girls are still with me and will be till next Wednesday, and we are enjoying home, the warm sunshine, the feeling that his garden has been left to us as a sort of gift for this time. As bad as things were and no doubt will be, we have all felt this wierd calmness. I have no doubt that when thegirls return home they will experience the same grief I did for my own father, but for now there is a feeling of peace, and relief for him.
The young man playing the pipes was to play at our daughter's wedding which was to be held on Sat. 19th of this month. He will still do so all going well, in a while.
This was read out at the service and I gave it to him some time back.
The Man and Me
Sleeping at night my palm opened flat on his chest,
Warmth feeding warmth, I know we are blessed.
No matter the day’s misunderstandings and blues;
No matter points made and lost;
No matter who thinks who’s the boss;
Sleeping always next to him is the life I would choose.
Re arranging pillows, blankets and such;
Both easy to fire off, yet both easy to touch.
Each unwilling to give way, equal to the end.
The Celt in us both, a marvellous brew,
Stirred and stirring, a wondrous stew.
Sleeping hand to chest our rousing battles mend.
Ah! And give me that fire, pure and unpolished,
And give me the spirit, no argument undemolished,
And give me the wickedness and its play,
Give me the empathy and knowing
Give me the common sense for our growing.
And let us wake hand to chest at the start of the day.
How dear to me is the man who breathes beside me at night?
How dear is the spirit, which gives his eyes their light?
How dear to me is the world we share?
There is no measure I can explain
But that his pain gives me also pain
And that our love is sometimes more than we can bear.
For me he stands, young, fair and clear-eyed as in youth.
For me, the things he feels I know, they are truth.
And I will hold these truths like rare and precious treasure,
For in a shifting sea of easy useless lies
The values of such truths are cherished ties
To the love which lives within the heart which is without measure.
So let me lie for hours, my hand upon his chest,
Thinking on the treasures with which we are blessed.
Such as our children treading out into the world to be,
Carrying the dreams of all our life;
Treasures as sacred as the man and wife
And as sacred as the love which binds the man to me.
With Love Therese
In a while, a week or so, I will catch up with all of you who have given me support...so don't disappear okay.