A softer, slower day than last Sunday which is good.
Tonight I share in a service where we remember those who have died. I was not bought up in this tradition: when you are gone, you are gone: move on.
Except, the older I have got, I have come to realise that whether you have faith or not, you are marked by those who have died. Who they were still influences you & sometimes, when all seems ‘healed’, their memory hits you and you can find yourself mourning again.
So each year, I have come to value this service more. It seems that the village does as well; increasing numbers shuffle silently into the parish church to be still, to remember and light a candle to piece the darkness with light.
They leave, usually silently, or maybe with a mumbled greeting: words often seem difficult on this night.
I was going to have this Sunday off: I am glad I didn’t- it is essential sometimes to come face to face with mortality: others’, but ultimately your own.