Today is Mom's memorial service.
Because of how I grew up, God speaks to me in Elizabethan English. In deference to that, my sister, who pulled together the service, decreed it will be conducted using the King James Version of the Holy Bible. Thank you, Kathy, it means more than you might understand.
I detest neckties. Today I'll wear one happily, because Mom would expect it. You need to understand, I've boycotted events I paid for because someone decided I had to wear a necktie.
So, today, in addition to wearing a tie, I will speak in English that Will Shakespeare would be comfortable with,as I read at Mom's service. While I will use my Portentous Announcer Voice, I will resist the urge to sing the words per the song.
Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3, verses 1-8.
A Time for Everything
1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
3 a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Goodbye, Mom. Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh! I love you and I miss you terribly right now. The world is rather blurry and my nose keeps running for some reason.
Now is the time at Castle Argghhh!, when the Armorer dances, for Mom. To the music she requested for her service, The Navy Hymn.
Heh. Mom's ashes were sitting on the table, at the place where she must have played 1,000,000 games of solitaire. So I put a pack of cards there. Dad laughed.
Way to go, Mom. Snow? Imp.
As Bloodspite noted in an email: Ar dheis Dé go raibh sé. Is fear rith maith ná drochsheasamh. Go dtaga do ríocht.
Mom does sit right-by-God and yes, indeed, it was a good run.
