The Day Of Rest?

Surreality? Surrealness? Something like that anyway. All my sensibilities are still outraged at a young girl, fun of fun and laughter, with a four year-old daughter, lying dead in a wooden box. All the crosses and candles in the world won't bring her back to see her daughter off on her first day at school. So sad.

In the nearly two years I've been in Ireland, I've rarely felt as much a foreigner as I did today. My ignorance of Catholic services is clearly a gap in my education but the removal today felt very alien to me. More accurately, I felt very alien to it. Not knowing any of the responses due to the Priest, I kept a respectful silence. It's not for me to show disrespect to anyone's beliefs or traditions. And all the time that box is sat in front of all of us.

I guess that none of know what any day, any moment may bring. For myself, I'll do what I always do - I'll live as best I can by my own lights. I'll work as hard as I know how, I'll treat others as I'd like for them to treat me (unless doing so becomes the equivalent of banging my head on the proverbial brick wall, in which case I'll shrug and leave them to their own devices) and I'll follow my heart.

For many people the most important question that they are ever asked, and the question they spend their lives in answering, is "How would you like to be remembered?"

For me, there is an easy one-word answer. It's the one I gave when I was first asked the question and I've never wavered: fondly.