Roses Sounding

Today, we gathered in St Michaels & All Angels Church, said thankyou for the life of Irene Watkins. Known and loved by many, the service had the personal touch it needed, and the brave, kind woman I regret not having known better in this life, was beautifully present with us all. She touched many lives. I remember her smile and laugh. I carry them with me.

The roses that lay in the church this morning were discussed in the homily. A beautiful poem, The Rose, by Amanda McBroom came:

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed

It’s the heart, afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It’s the dream, afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It’s the one who won’t be taken
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dying
That never learns to live

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed
That with the sun’s love, in the spring
Becomes the rose

I began to play the organ in church today. And as I did, finding some of my favourite hymns to tinkle out, I wondered if Irene was with each of us present today, to see us, to remind us that she wanted us all to be happy. And as I held hands with a few friends and shared hugs, I could see her smile as I closed my eyes, and feel it, feel her, around us.

There are so many ways to create sound from an organ. So many ways to create sound through poetry. And so many ways to create sound, to create music, in the lives of those around us. I’ve learnt through so many, that Irene was good at that. Requiescat in pace.

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