More Than The Spoken Words Can Tell

For you are beautiful, and I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell

It’s 7.30am; I am sitting at the computer in tears.  They have just played Roger Whittaker singing The Last Farewell on the Radio.  I have written before about music and how it takes us back to another time and place in our lives.

I seem to go to many funerals these days.  My friends are mostly my age and so it is to be expected.  But this song immediately takes me back to the most moving and beautiful funeral that I have attended.  I have no recollection of my husband’s funeral although I am told by family and friends that it was beautiful and moving.

My husband’s closest friend died after a long fight over several years.  I saw him a few days before he died and we talked about Bob (my dashing not-so-young Scotsman) and of the fun the four of us had over many years.  And even though the death was not unexpected it was still hard, particularly for his wife who was lost without his guiding hand that had been there for more than 40 years.

His family had been involved as undertakers for many years and although the business was no longer in the family’s hands the funeral was conducted in that chapel.  I was given the supreme compliment of being asked to read a poem at the funeral.  My husband of course, would have been asked if he had been alive. The poem was Death is Nothing At All by Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918, Canon of St Paul’s Cathedral, London.

So on this lovely summer day here in Wellington, on the 54th anniversary of my wedding day, I am once again reminded that life is transitory and we must make the most of each and every day.

“…Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other that we are still……
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well.”

12 responses to “More Than The Spoken Words Can Tell

  1. I love that poem and its sentiment. Thank you.


  2. The ebb and flow of life coaxes tears and smiles from within. Thanks, Judith.


  3. OMGosh. I haven’t thought of Roger Whittaker in years. Love his voice. Thanks for reminding me.


    • The song was played as the coffin left for the crematorium – it was very moving. I will always think of my husband’s best friend when I hear that song.


  4. That is a beautiful song, one I haven’t heard in quite some time, Judith. Sorry it brought tears, may they be replaced with happy tears.


  5. The power of music never ceases to amaze me. My heart fluttered nervously as I read your post. I almost wanted to close my eyes, because I didn’t want to relive the death of my Dad. Plus, now that I am a parent, death takes on a whole new meaning (if that makes any sense).
    But, I did keep my eyes open, and I did read your post. Rather than sadness, I found I was inspired. The poem, Judith, is beautiful. The poem is hopeful.


    • Thank you Lenore. I hadn’t come across that poem until I was asked to read it. It really is beautiful.
      I am sorry my post brought back memories of your Dad’s dying but following on those memories surely came other more happy memories. Keep hold of those happy memories. 🙂


  6. Comforting. But I still feel cheated for the gone time now.


Let's talk

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.