here, beneath the heavens

I have had to take an unexpectedly sudden break ...
Jonathan's mother passed away on Monday.

We found out in May, just before Mother's Day,
that the cancer had spread and that it was terminal.

We immediately booked tickets to visit her in Tasmania,

and spent a wonderful 10 days beneath the Western Tiers.

It was one of many visits made there since the family shifted 

from the mainland just a little less than two years ago.

Three weeks ago we got a call that Beryl 

would be going into hospital and palliative care.

We headed back and it has been a sad visit indeed.

She passed away gently, after a difficult two weeks, 
whilst holding the hand of the man she had loved 
for seventy years and encircled by her children.

She was 86 years old.

Everything must be done by turns; 

no activity, here beneath the heavens, 

but has its allotted time for 

beginning and coming to an end. 

Men are born only to die, 

plant trees only to displant them. 

Now we take life, now we save it; 

now we are destroying, now building. 

Weep first, then laugh, 

mourn we and dance; 

the stones we have scattered 

we must bring together anew; 

court we first and then shun the embrace. 

Today's gain, tomorrow's loss; 

what once we treasured, soon thrown away; 

the garment rent, the garment mended; 

silence kept, and silence ended; 

love alternating with hatred, 

war with peace. 

For all this toil of his, how is man the richer? 

I was raised Roman Catholic and although my 
spiritual beliefs are no longer exactly christian in nature,
the above words have often brought me gentle peace.

They were read at my grandmother's funeral, and 
the last line has always been a point of reflection for me.

Perhaps a  catholic would say that the richness is in 
leading a good life and being rewarded in the hereafter,
but I believe now that it is to be found in the way one lives
their life, not for the promise of eternal life beyond death,
but because of a deep connection with life
HERE, beneath the heavens...

Beryl was married for sixty-one years to Peter.

 She was a mother, a grandmother, a great grandmother,
an appreciator of beauty, a wonderful storyteller
and an incredibly talented photographer...

And she always had a twinkle in her eye.  

I knew her only in the last six years of her life
(the same length of time that I have known my son),
and what will hold fast in my memory is her 
great appreciation of very simple pleasures
and her memory for the details of beauty 
in each and every passing moment.

She could remember the name of most any flower.
So few people do.  I will dearly miss her.


Re: The Book of Ecclesiastes 3:1-10 (Old Testament) Revised Knox Version


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