We gathered on Friday at a beautiful funeral service on a beautiful day to pay our respects to Helmut and take our leave. There were over two hundred people there and I am sure many more would have liked to attend. Helmut's parents were there, his sister, his wife, his children, his best friends, his work colleagues. Some of us spoke, some played music; we all shed tears and then smiled, laughed and grieved.
It was a celebration of Helmut's life but also a celebration and an affirmation of life itself. A confirmation of how precious it is, how good it can be, of how tenuous our grasp on it is, how it can vanish from one heartbeat to the next; a kick up the backside to get those things done which we really want to do, to get those things said that we really want to say, a reminder to make sure that those we love know that we love them.
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Nary a truer word was said, but do we ever listen to ourselves? Not often.
I came back from my Mum's funeral determined to declutter my house after having to do hers for her after she'd gone. Have I done it? Uh.. no.
I'm glad Helmut's funeral went well, and it was so well attended. It is a comfort, isn't it? It helps you to really feel that 'Helmut shaped hole' which is the first step, I suppose, to allowing it to heal.
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