(no subject)
I'm on the Sunhine Coast for the weekend for my sister's 39th birthday. I bought her a 'Get Well Soon' card, wishing her a speedy recovery; older brothers are supposed to tease their younger siblings, right?
I also sang at a memorial service for a friend of my mother's from one of her choirs, whose mother had passed away on Christmas Eve. I didn't know the deceased, but the friend has been kind to the family, allowing them to use part of his property as a garden. I hadn't seen one of the songs before, but it was fairly straightforward and gave me no problems, and many people came up to me after the service to say how much they enjoyed my singing, which is always flattering. Still, it feels a bit strange, dropping into these sorts of things at literally the last moment when everybody else has had at least one opportunity to practice.
Funerals. Memorial services. Things which I hope to never have. People sitting around, offering polite words of condolence, the seemingly pre-requisite prayers, Bible verses and psalms - not for me, thanks. Instead, give me something raucous, something unrepentant. Prop me up in the corner, raise a glass, sing a few songs, tell a few stories before the lights go out for one and all. Do me a favour and celebrate the fact that you're alive by mocking death. That's the way to go.
And more than anything, let there be music. That would be a celebration fitting for this Mythical Man.
I also sang at a memorial service for a friend of my mother's from one of her choirs, whose mother had passed away on Christmas Eve. I didn't know the deceased, but the friend has been kind to the family, allowing them to use part of his property as a garden. I hadn't seen one of the songs before, but it was fairly straightforward and gave me no problems, and many people came up to me after the service to say how much they enjoyed my singing, which is always flattering. Still, it feels a bit strange, dropping into these sorts of things at literally the last moment when everybody else has had at least one opportunity to practice.
Funerals. Memorial services. Things which I hope to never have. People sitting around, offering polite words of condolence, the seemingly pre-requisite prayers, Bible verses and psalms - not for me, thanks. Instead, give me something raucous, something unrepentant. Prop me up in the corner, raise a glass, sing a few songs, tell a few stories before the lights go out for one and all. Do me a favour and celebrate the fact that you're alive by mocking death. That's the way to go.
And more than anything, let there be music. That would be a celebration fitting for this Mythical Man.