This poem is a poem of sorrow
A death is a sorrow
A sorrow forever
And I do have sorrow
For you
And your father
And the grandchildren
And your father
And the sisters and brothers
And your father and your mother
Death is sadness

But this is a poem of joy
A celebration of all that is
Of your father alive in
Each of the people he touched
Of skiing and sailing and bicycling
And a thousand other things
That when they are thought of
Include thoughts of your father

The heavens opened
The agony of rain and snow
The tears of those left behind
But the sun burned away
And the world was full of joy
Not because your father was gone
But because he had lived

“Let us live so that when we come to die
Even the undertaker will be sorry”
Mark Twain may have had your father in mind
Saint Paul’s Church was a haven
A Malcy fan club
Every word was one of pleasure and joy

Who was your father?
I knew him – he was what he was
I knew that others loved him
That he was a great man
Then the accolades began
Not random but personal
The love of each speaker
The love of each listener
The bagpiper with the dirk
In his stocking – McLanes
Will not be caught unprepared

How do you prepare for a death?
How do you prepare for a funeral?
"Let us learn those things on earth
The knowledge of which continues in heaven"*
The heavens wept and then relented
This man had shared his wisdom and life
In a way that will continue on earth
For ever and ever
As long as bagpipes may play

-----
John B. Ferguson
February 19, 2008
© 2008

*(St. Jerome, Epistle 53)
(The St. Paul’s School motto)

© 2008

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