18 April 2011
Dear Dad,
I'm not quite ready to blog about your funeral yet... I'm still ticking it all over in my mind. I will say this though. - It was beautiful.
I will however post the reading's Jenny and I did. I was really proud of the way we managed to get up there in front of your friends and workmates and speak from the heart.
The Dash (Read by me <3)
I read of a Man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on his tombstone
From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came the date of his birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all the time
That he spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved him
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left,
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?
The Autumn Muster (read by Jen <3)
In the cool air of the morning,
As the bright stars fade away,
Comes an echoing down from shingle tops
The first ‘bark up’ of the day.
As the Dogs take up there chorus
The sheep will soon be strung,
Far across the snow grass basins high
And the muster has begun.
A stag roars from the bush below
Challenging far and near.
His hinds are milling in a mob
Keeping a well tuned ear.
The tussock waves in the nor-west breeze
A kea screams above,
And the rattling noise as a chamois bolts
Are the sounds a musterer loves.
The frost is on the dark side face
The creek is icy cold,
And sidling through a ragged bluff
A man’s step must be bold.
There’s boulders flying down the hill
As the wethers pick their way,
Through the mass of rocks and ridges
Where the men do earn their pay.
The poor Dogs trail behind them
Their pads are bleeding raw,
Fighting fit three days ago
They now are tired and sore.
Most will run until they drop
Courage great to see;
And when the homesteads yards are reached
A well earned rest there’ll be.
I hope we did you proud
Love me <3
