A life well lived

[emsk]

The last funeral I went to was over three years ago. A six-month-old baby, who succumbed to cot death. That? Was appalling. Tears and hurt and pain on all sides.

Edie’s funeral was today. And it wasn’t sad. Yes, her family will miss their Nanny, but none of us can regret her death. Her life story, most of which I knew. Her family, her friends, her husband. The faith she held for so many years, believed in so strongly that she spoke of it before her death. She’d organised her funeral herself, which I thought was nice. Had her mokopuna bring in flowers with the pallbearers, which they arranged around the coffin. No formalities, just a peaceful contented atmosphere. We smiled and laughed, and yes, there were a few tears, but we can’t really begrudge her death. She was old, and content, and tired. She’s buried, now, with her husband, happy and at peace.

As the hearse left, two of her whanau were playing saxophone. The old jazz music she’d loved all her life. It was… bizarre, having jazz playing in a house of worship, but strangely fitting for Nanny Edie.

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I’m still stuck between a rock and a hard place. Listening to the funeral talk today… she believed what I’ve been taught. I’ve known that all my life. Like a terrier, she was, give her an argument and she’d not rest. Was one of the things I liked about her, even as her irascible temperament irritated me from time to time.

But.. do I have that faith? In anything? I’m still dithering about what I’ll do when I’ve moved. Pick up again, find a new congregation in Auckland? Step away from it all? No-one but me can help me make up my mind here. And oh, it’s hard.

Originally published at kiwi geek. You can comment here or there.