Dec. 22, 2001
James - the funeral

We buried James the day after he died, on a very wet and grey Wednesday afternoon. On the way to the chapel I tried to make conversation by saying "It always seems to rain when there is a funeral". After a pause Pam said "Well I think it's James using his heavenly Super Soaker." Instantly Rebecca spoke up and said "No. It's the angels crying." So we drove on through the rain to a small chapel in the cemetery where our family and a few close friends were waiting. We had wanted a very private ceremony, mostly for the sake of Rebecca and Ben, and there was not a person there who had not shared significantly in James' life. On the coffin was a beautiful flower arrangement which Rebecca and her best friend Rebecca had spent three happy hours putting together in the back of the flower shop. The concept of flowers for a boy was new to me, but the Rebecca's had it figured; a colourful, bold splash of many different flowers, with some of James' toys carefully placed within the arrangement. A front end loader, a Thomas the Tank Engine, a Harry Potter card, a space shuttle, and a Frodo action figure. Two ribbons, one reading "Son", and the other "Brother". The Rebecca's had honoured James with something unique that money never could have bought.

So this is it, your ultimate nightmare, your child lying six feet away from you in a coffin.

It is Ben's turn to contribute, and John begins the rite by asking Ben if he may borrow his Prayer Book once more. Ben obliges. The two surviving children are playing their part. John reads, familiar words of scripture heard many times before, but now they cut so deep into my heart. Then I hear words I have read out loud to James in our journey through The Lord of the Rings. The service of the Burial of the Dead continues, and I am grateful in a new way for ritual as it carries me through the numbness and despair of losing James. Through the blur I am aware that the pallbearers are now lifting James' coffin, sharing for a moment a physical weight of grief, and then the final scene unfolds as the cavalcade moves across town to the cemetery. The grave is very close to the river, and I think how many times we have cruised past this very spot in our houseboat with ten or twenty guests on board for one of our happy dessert, coffee and fireworks evenings. James often drove the houseboat, and steered it very well. We stand around the grave as the final words are spoken, and I feel the bitterness of this final parting. Now all the children are coming forward, each with a flower to place on the coffin, and then others come too with more flowers. Bold Ben chooses to follow the example of the priest, and he takes a handful of dirt and sprinkles it on the coffin. I am compelled to reach down and touch the coffin one last time, then I move to Pamela and hug her, then Rebecca and Ben, then all of us have a big, long, family hug, the four who are left. It is over. Goodbye James!