The Silent Deceivers

Chapter 8

The Funeral

In loving memory of

 Renee Levson,

Born 19th July 1975 - Died 8th June 2013

Mathew Levson

Born 28thNovember 1972 – Died 8th June 2013

And their son Austin Levson.

Born 2nd February 2002 - Died 8th June 2013

Services Held

St Mary Church, Andover

Friday 29th June 2013

11:00 am

Officiating

Rev. David Anders

Place of Interment

St Marys Church Cemetery

Andover

Order of Service 

Introduction

Family Prayer

Hymn

Bible Reading

Memories from Beatrice Levson

Prayer

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep

I am 1,000 winds that blow

I am the diamond glints on snow

I am the sun on ripened grain

I am the gentle autumn rain

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled light

I am the soft star that shines at night

Do not stand at my grave and cry

I am not there; I did not die.

When I look back on this day I remember travelling to the church in a slow parade of cars. We (Auntie Beatrice and I) were first, following directly behind the hearses. (The fact that I have to use the plural of hearse is seriously messed up!). I was dressed traditionally for a funeral, head to toe in black. My blond curls fell neatly to my shoulder. I was wearing waterproof mascara which is an absolute god send for an occasion like this.

 When we arrived, we walked up the slippery, steep stone, steps and entered the church. The church was decorated simply; flowers –mostly roses- were placed neatly in vases along the main aisle. The first seven rows of pews were filled on either side, with close family friends, heads turned as we walked down the center aisle. We took our seats, just seconds before dad’s favourite song filled the room and they entered. The coffins, one by one, were carried into the church, on the shoulders of men in black suits. I can still picture the blur of the  words ‘MUM’, ‘DAD’ and ‘BROTHER’ dressed with flowers, blue and white woven together. I can remember the lack of emotion in Auntie Beatrice’s speech, her cold hard tone, which made me cry harder into Kerri’s shoulder. I watched in silence as the coffins were carried out of the church.

 After the service was over, we moved outside. We were greeted by a murder of crows that were scattered around the three graves. The cloudy grey sky and a sharp breeze that made it feel more like winter than the middle of summer. We stopped first to burry Austin. Either side of the dug-out grave that disappeared deep into the ground stood porcelain statues with tear stained faces. Each of then clasping an order of service and a single flower of some sort. Auntie Beatrice and I took turns laying a rose down and throwing a handful of dirt onto the coffin, as it was slowly lowered into the ground. My deep red rose stood out against the white lily’s that covered Austin’s coffin. Then the party moved on to say a final goodbye to my Mum and Dad respectively. At each grave side the priest said the same monologue and one sentence remains in my head; I can hear it crystal clear.

“There is a time to live and a time to die.”

My time to die would come, whether it was years away or in the near future but this was my time to live, do all the things that they couldn’t.

The last thing I remember is laying a bouquet of roses on each of their graves and then walking down the path to the car. As we drove away I looked back the grave yard and smiled, at least they were peaceful and happy.

From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust.