Reading for a funeral

I'm sorry I can't suggest anything but wanted to wish you luck in finding something and condolences to the family.

Thank you Dolly Rocks, that's really kind of you ?

The only thing I can immediately think of is 'Warning' by Jenny Joseph (when I am old woman, I shall wear purple). Or are there any Aborigine folk tales that are spiritual, without being religious ?

My condolences to you and your OH. I hope you can find something suitable.

“When I must leave you” When I must leave you for a little while, Please do not grieve and shed wild tears and hug your sorrow to you through the years, But start out bravely with a gallant smile; And for my sake and in my name live on and do all things the same, Feed not your loneliness on empty days, But fill each waking hour in useful ways, Reach out your hand in comfort and in cheer and I in turn will comfort you and hold you near; And never, never be afraid to die, For I am waiting for you in the sky!

Orly Bird, I did consider 'Warning' but Dot was always too proper to do anything like that! She also didn't ever seem that old if you know what I mean. She was only ill for a very short time and was in rude health before that. Thank you for taking the time to suggest it though. Thank you also for the tip about Aborigine folk tales, I will Google now and see if there's anything that fits the bill.

Mrs Spink to be! - That's really lovely, I like it a lot. I think that I would like something with a bit of humour though.

Perhaps some of the 'poetry HIB's of old can pen me something suitable ?

I really didn't realise how hard this would be!

I did wonder of 'Warning' was on-key, but it was the first I could think of. If you want humour, is there anything in Pam Eyres' work ? Or, could you put Dot's memoirs in a poem ?

I don't appear to be very good at this as I hadn't even thought of trying Pam Ayres, I'll have a look. I really like the idea of using Dot's memoires somehow and putting them in a poem may well be an option. Its been a long time since I wrote a poem although I'd be happy to give it a try.

One poem I really love is Philip Larkin's 'Dublinesque'. The Irish/Liverpuddlian connection is spot on and it has a lovely celebratory tone without being up-beat enough to be disrespectful. What d'you think?

Having just googled it, I can see why you like it. Only you know whether it fits with Dot's life or not, but I would think it a good choice for any funeral I went to. (Although, it may be worth checking the meaning first. I've seen a couple of comments to suggest that Katy is a prostitute.)

Yes I've seen those comments too, also the ref to streetwalkers could certainly have a double meaning. I studied Larkin for an English course I took last year and my tutor was of the opinion the streetwalkers & Katy weren't prostitutes. However, he won't be at the funeral to explain to the congregation so it might be wiser to steer clear!

This is a non religious poem. It was read at my mum in laws funeral

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 sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn's rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there.

I did not die.

I read this at both my nana and grandad's funerals:

Death is nothing at all

Death is nothing at all

I have only slipped away into the next room

I am I and you are you

Whatever we were to each other

That we are still

Call me by my old familiar name

Speak to me in the easy way you always used

Put no difference into your tone

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow

Laugh as we always laughed

At the little jokes we always enjoyed together

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me

Let my name be ever the household word that it always was

Let it be spoken without effort

Without the ghost of a shadow in it

Life means all that it ever meant

It is the same as it ever was

There is absolute unbroken continuity

What is death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind

Because I am out of sight?

I am waiting for you for an interval

Somewhere very near

Just around the corner

All is well.

Nothing is past; nothing is lost

One brief moment and all will be as it was before

How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

My gran picked one about ships that was really nice, I'll see if I can google it.

Just found this whilst looking. It's quite nice.

She is Gone
By Anonymous

You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her
or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she's gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
or you can do what she'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

This is the ship one:

I am standing on the seashore,
A ship sails and spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
And starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty and I stand watching her till at last she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says “ she is gone”.
Gone where?
Gone from my sight that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spurs, as she was when I saw her,
and just as able to bear her load of living freight to its destination.
The diminished size, the total loss of sight is in me not in her, and just at the moment when someone at my side says “She is gone”
There are others who are watching her coming, and other voices take up the glad shout.
“here she comes.”
And that is DYING.

BISHOP BRENT

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength, and I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come down to meet each other. Then someone at my side says, 'There, she is gone.' Gone where? Gone from my sight, that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side, and just as able to bear her load of living weights to its place of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not in her; and just at the moment when someone at my side says, 'There, she is gone,' on that distant shore there are other eyes watching for her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, 'Here she comes'—and such is dying

JOYCE GRENFELL’S POEM

“ If I should go before the rest of you,

Break not a flower, nor inscribe a stone,

Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice,

But be the usual selves That I have known.

Weep if you must: Parting is hell,

But life goes on So...sing as well!”

Thank you all of you for your replies, its really kind of you to take the time and trouble to reply. Tilly Floss, I love that Joyce Grenfell poem. I read it as part of my English study on WW1 literature last year. Its beautifully solomn and slightly upbeat too, a definate contender I'd say!