Words on June 17th

For those of you at the celebration for Mike, you would remember the words spoken by Brian Yealland, the Queen's chaplain who led us through our celebration of Mike.
I've wanted to re-visit the words from Brian and thought others might too.  He had written out his thoughts in preparation for the celebration and then dropped off copies at my house a few days later.  I've held tight to these words, just like the words of the others that spoke that day.  Sometimes, it feels like it was yesterday.  Grant Hall.  That was my first and only choice for where to gather.  The floors had just been polished for the convocation ceremonies earlier in the week and were gleaming as we entered.  The stained glass windows were bright, perched formally around the grand hall.  And there were lots of people.  I remember everyone as a collective mass, many leaving right away-- many faces I didn't have a chance to see.  Some people stayed to visit after, in little clusters. 

Here are Brian's words:
'Good morning and welcome to this memorial and celebration of life for Michael Nault.  My name is Brian Yealland and I had the privilege to officiate at the wedding of Mike and Sarah, just down the road from here in September, 2004.  I remember well the joyous and loving nature of that day, and the future it promised.  And that promise has been fulfilled in the love Mike and Sarah have shared with each other, the arrival on planet earth, of two stars from the sky, Lucas and Emily, and in Mike's continuing devotion to his healing work as a cardiologist.  But we gather today in deepest sorrow that, far too soon, the promise and the destiny of that day, and of Mike's precious life have been broken by an outrageous disease.  We can but rail at fate, complain bitterly at the flaws in nature and the design of life that allows such a thing as this to happen.  We can be angry, we should be angry, we deserve to be angry, for Mike, for Sarah, for Lucas and Emily, for Mike's family and loved ones and friends, for all of us.  We can but proclaim the unacceptability of our reason for being here today.  Yet, in the same breath comes another equally valid and I believe stronger response, stronger in meaning if not yet stronger in emotion.  It is the response that calls us to be thankful for Mike's life and to celebrate who he was and still is to us, to be thankful for all that he accomplished, to spend this time together, remembering him and paying tribute to his life.

Mike loved the stars.  He and Sarah are like two stars whose light came together to form one very bright star.  That light brought into being two new stars, to which I have already alluded, and all that light will continue to shine, and even grow.  We might say that Mike's soul has returned to the sky, as a star, that is a very ancient way of understanding that soul's onward journey.  It might be a way in the near future for Lucas and Emily to think of their Dad.  But the light does not die and the love does not die.  It continues your to bear, your to cherish, and your to love.  We live by love, we live by connection, and in life's worse moments, when connection is broken, and it is our love which is causing the pain of loss, the answer, strange though it may seem is to love and connect all the more.  That is how light reaches the dark places in our lives and our world.  Through the pain and the loss of these sorrowful days, may Mike's light shine on, in all of us.'
(Included here with Brian's permission)

We ended with bag pipes.  Mike would have loved to hear this music, as always.  It was painfully perfect-- their sharp, clear sound.

Today I listen to what Brian said that day-- at his thoughtful words of healing.  He urged us to pay tribute to Mike, to continue to love Mike, to remember Mike, to celebrate his accomplishments and to connect with each other in our grief.  How thankful I am that this blog has helped us to do these things.