Some Dearly Departed.....and Some Not Quite

My heart goes out to a neighbour today.  On passing his house, there are a few signs that he has returned home.  Some may have heard of the Glasgow tragedy involving a police helicopter crashing into the Clutha Bar last November, killing 10 people.  We knew the pilot's father, Mr Traill, quite well, as he regularly brought his two Collie dogs to our park for exercise and fun.  All the kids loved the dogs, Digger and Rambo, and often joined in play with them.  This is tragedy enough, but 3 years earlier, he lost his younger son to cancer.  It's the initial words, after the sympathy cards are taken down, that I'll struggle with.

In saying that - let me tell you of another happening at a recentish death.  My older son's partner, Carlene, returned from the funeral of a family friend, clutching a programme.  The planned hyms were popular, speeches fitting, and I think 'Ole Blue Eyes even had an airing.  The only hiccup was the photo on front of the cards wasn't of the deceased.

Carlene's mum, the best friend of the dearly departed,  organised the keepsake tribute cards, taking in a favourite picture of her and her best friend to the printers and somehow 'someone' got it wrong.  Maybe it was grief, panic, hurry, whatever.....it was certainly a clanger of the major sort.  However, copies were retrieved and all in all it was considered something the best friend would find very funny.  And yes, I couldn't help but giggle, too!  But I swear - if Metallica in some way, shape, or funny form find their to my last stand, I'll haunt the guilty one All Nightmare Long......!

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Freshly Pipped

A family gathering, a Sunday debate
A spread of keen citruses, bright and ornate

Your hunger awaiting the green light from dad
As he seasons and juices his fresh catch of scad

Sitting adjacent, parents and sons
In happy approach, each canonical nones

Grace and a table indicative of
Pride from a father, a labour of love

Who mentions quite playfully,  points with a knife
How the fruits of their loins will be needed in life

To keep the seeds handy, to burst into colour
Peeling the pith, squeezing juice from another

They'll each have a table, and gathering glow
And a orchard of offsprings, a life to bestow
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Unlucky For Some

Nothing exciting or unlucky happened.  A glorious day with plenty sunshine and still, frosty greenery.  Peaceful indeed. For one to be raised by a highly superstitious mother, no salt, ladders, counting, saluting, chanting, praying, crack-skipping, colour sorting, cat cursing, slow breathing, recitals, odd sock missions, feather bunging, garlic or priests were needed.  Friday the 13th...?  BRING IT ON..........!  It's the other 365 days I need worry about.....................

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