I know I promised you the moon today, Marina, but I feel compelled to write something else. Tomorrow good for you? I sure hope so.
I am sitting in my quiet house, having just returned from Patrice‘s funeral. The boys stayed behind with their gang to celebrate him the way twenty-somethings “should” – starting with a shotgun beer in the parking lot, no doubt, followed by who-knows-what and I should not know.
Visitation was held from 10:00 am till 3:00 pm today (plus four hours yesterday from 4:00-8:00 pm) followed by the religious ceremony in the chapel, which was the room right beside – a rarity, not the chapel, but the religious ceremony. Most of my family came and it was no easy feat for all the “kids” who had hung out with Pat on the cruise. It was just so surreal.
There is a different dynamic when the deceased is a twenty-two-year-old healthy, full-of-life type. I’ve been to far too many forty-somethings and fifty-somethings funerals already since, let me see, 2001 – so almost twenty years. And I thought THEY were all too young. So this? No. Almost impossible to wrap one’s head around it.
Life celebrations have gone from boards with pictures or albums on tables showing the life of the loved one to movies or montages of their life scrolling in an endless loop. I thought seeing a fifty-year old’s was hard. This was a punch in the solar plexus. They had a corner for Pat’s art, a long table with various pictures and favourite pieces such as a hockey shirt, his football trophies and such and, of course, a beautifully done video. And, oh Lordy. I was not ready to see him lying in his coffin. Everyone gets cremated now. Visitation is an urn with a 16″ X 20″ (or two) photo beside the urn. Not this time. They went old-school for this.
The place was packed with mask-wearing mourners of all ages. the priest came in and told us that he would give one prayer and then ask us to make our way next door to the chapel, leaving the family to say their final farewell in private.
Standing by your bench, watching your own twenty-two-year-old and his four friends, plus Pat’s cousin, roll the casket to the front, while this song is playing is sobering. These young men were doing their best to hold it together as they performed their solemn duty, then sat together and let their emotions do what was needed. This song just about killed me.
Father Sylvain was perfect. He said beautiful things and asked those who pray to pray; never preaching
Jules, Marilyn and Maude (his parents and sister) came up and Jules spoke for them. He started off by saying he promised Pat he wouldn’t cry and he spoke beautifully, his composure cracking only at the end; his wife and daughter on either side of him, giving him what he needed to push through. My heart broke for them.
I know Pat’s family chose music that he loved and when this song played, I watched as their heads bopped to the beat. I know it wasn’t the lyrics they were feeling.
Father Sylvain introduced Charles-Olivier to come and say a word and the five young men stood up as one, the four surrounding him as he read the beautiful post he wrote the day he found out he lost his friend, his gym partner, his clown, the one who always said how much he loved them who was now his guardian angel.
There were the usual blessings and the thank yous and, as the following song played, we were all invited to come up and use the provided Sharpies (and Purell) to write something on the casket. Now THAT is a beautiful thing.
May I say that I do not want to do this again.
How very sad for your loss! Especially one so young!
Dwight
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Thank you, Dwight.
It’s been a rough three weeks.
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It must have been very tough!
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It was
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Wonderful write up, Dale. Once is too much.
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Thank you, Timothy. Yes, once is too much, indeed.
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My heart goes out to you and to everyone who loved him. A ceremony like that can’t help but be heartbreaking. It sounds like it was done very thoughtfully, giving the different pieces that differnet people need. Your description brings me back to that day when I was the other side, as the young person who just lost someone my age and it’s almost as raw as it was those decades ago. And even then (being stupid and young, it seems now) my heart went more to his mother than any of us. To lose a child that young, I just can’t imagine how someone bears it. And yet people do, because they have to. Ugh, nothing helpful to say so just: sending hugs. ❤
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Thank you, Joy. It was beautifully done.
I know you never forget it and it remains a part of you.
Yes, we learn to bear it. It is what we have to.
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Dear Dale,
I have no words. Wonderful tribute.
Shalom and lotsa friendship hugs,
Rochelle
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Dear Rochelle,
Thank you, my friend. Those are all the words needed.
Shalom and lotsa love,
Dale
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Q
Life is always busy taking from us. Each time, a stark reminder that we possess nothing and that every special moment is a gift. Beautiful tribute to a light extinguished much too soon.
B
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B,
Yes, it is. These reminders are meant to push us to realise each gift. Thank you.
Q
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❤️
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💕
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I’m so sorry, Dale. I don’t know what to say. You wrote a lovely musing on his death–way too young; tragic, and so many grieving and trying to make sense out of something that makes no sense. Thinking of you and of all his loved ones.
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Thank you, Merril. It was so damn sad. I just felt the need to do one last little thing.
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I understand. 😘
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😘
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Wow Dale.
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Yeah… a real tough one.
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Tough day for all. Agree – funerals for the young are difficult. Peace to all! On the plus side, this post delivered the positive message with appropriate music.
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It was a tough day. And thank you. The music as the boys were walking up the aisle was a testament to him.
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Dang it… I buggered up my song list… added THE most important one.
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I hope you never EVER EVER have to do this again.
I’m so sorry. And I know. I know how hard it is. It is important you were there. But it does not make the heartbreak any less. Perhaps more. Knowing how important it was, you were there.
And angels weep.
Hugs to you, dear one.
Na’ama
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So do I.
and I thank you and I know you do. It was very important I be there.
Angels do weep.
Hugs accepted and returned.
Dale xoxo
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hugs and more. xx
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Thank you, my friend.
I just modified my post because I forgot THE most important song…
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xoxo
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xoxo
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A really touching tribute, Dale. How very sad for you all.
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Thank you, Sylvia. It has been a sad three weeks, bringing us to today. My son is really wrecked over this but I know he is strong.
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I don’t blame you for not wanting to do this sad duty again, Dale. You have my prayers that today’s sadness will eventually turn to memories that will provide you with comfort.
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Thank you, John. I know they will eventually. And my son will realise it too. It’s unfortunately not his first time dealing with the death of one close to him.
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I can relate. My dad died when I was ten and it seemed there were recurring losses that just seemed to make the agony continue forever. He is in my prayers as well.
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So young to lose a parent. My boys were 15 and 16.
🤗
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My sister was 15 and I think she was old enough not to feel she was to blame. I was in a different place. I was convinced I had done something wrong.
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Oh my gosh… What a horrible thing to feel. It’s our way of trying to justify it
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So true. Little brains can only figure out those things they know.
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This is so true. My goodness…
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Then it takes big brains to finally work through what is real.
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This is true.
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And $220 an hour psychologists. 😊
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Eeesh…
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What a beautiful piece. The funeral director in me observes that y’all remembered him as he was when he was alive and it was a good send off. Unfortunately, the older we get, the more funerals we go to. Virtual hugs from Charleston, SC.
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Thank you, Ray. Of course we do. In his short life, he took it by the horns.
Problem is, I’ve experienced way more death than I should have by now, already. And most of them under the age of 55.
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It’s just so hard when it is somebody so young. Just so hard. The loss one feels when somebody passes who is 60 or 70 or 80 is hard, but it’s a completely type of difficulty than when a young person passes unexpectedly. A couple of years ago, my father-in-law passed. He was somewhere around 86 or 87 and, to be honest, had lived longer than expected given his health issues. When his funeral happened, I helped my wife write what she wanted to say at his funeral, knowing full well that I would be doing the reading since there was no way she would be able to get through it. Honestly, I struggled mightily with reading what we had written — not at the loss of her father, but at the pain I knew she was feeling.
But, all sorts of years earlier, my best friend died suddenly. At the age of 30. We were born 10 days apart.
A couple of years after he was our best man. A few months after our first child was born and he brought a baseball glove as a gift — because he knew how much I liked baseball. And then one day, I got a call telling me he had died in a hospital emergency room because of a heart attack. At an age when that simply isn’t supposed to happen. And the pain and the loss and the anguish still remains. Yes, I don’t wallow in it, but there remain moments when I wonder and I feel the loss. Because it’s just not supposed to happen that way.
I hope you get a break from all of this. That you have at least a few years in which you don’t have deal with the sting of loss, of lives cut short far too soon. And that you experience some joy and happiness that counteract the loss you have experienced over the years. I really do. You deserve it.
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Yes, it is so bloody hard when they are so young. You want to do the “why”, though I never do. 30 is too young, too and it must have been sheer anguish for you. I can list off names of people of varying levels of friendship, all 50 and younger, then can tack on two that were 52 and 56. Still too damn young.
I hope so, too! I don’t know why I am so familiar with death; I sure as hell don’t seek it out but man… cancers (mostly) and heart attack and such. I’d definitely like a break.
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I agree. “Why?” is a futile question in these circumstances. It is what it is. These things happen some times. It’s a lottery. A roll of the dice.
What bothers me about it is that whenever it happens, those around me (including myself) always engage in the “we’re going to learn from this and not take life for granted and live every day and” do this and do that. And then that doesn’t really happen. It would be nice to see those words and thoughts actually be put into real action. I’m just as guilty of it, but I wish there was a way we could live our lives more fully than we do. Or can. Because … it is a lottery. And that’s a difficult thing to figure out how to deal with.
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I’ve never been a ‘why?’ person. Why not? They do happen to all sorts of people. No one is exempt (though some really do seem to sail through scot-free, eh?)
I have to tell you I am not necessarily of the “learn from this” camp as much as the “live each day to the fullest”… or at the very least “don’t sweat the small stuff” and “don’t waste your energy where it is not necessary”. I think that is what has happened to me. Why I ended up in Tuscany in 2016 by myself. And even why I ended up becoming a waitress, having never done it before. Why not? I was tired of the office stuff and wanted to try something new. K. Did it and am ready for something else now 😉
This bloody virus has put the kibosh on everyone’s plans so I won’t bitch and moan about being stuck… But I’ll choose to think something better is lurking.
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Your last paragraph … tell me a out it. I “retired” at the end of February knowing that the pension wasn’t enough, at least for a few more years, and fully intended on finding some additional work to supplement it. Consulting, or legal work somewhere, somehow. But a lot of that has dried up because government agencies are cutting budgets – so they aren’t hiring. And private companies are slashing spending as well, so they aren’t hiring consultants. I’m at somewhat of a loss now. And, what I really would like to do is just go work at a pizza place or a bar, pouring beer for people, and those jobs don’t really exist at the moment either. So … I’m a bit flummoxed. But fortunately, I’ve got that pension and enough money put away that I can get through a bit of this.
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Yeah. I hear ya. That would be fun – once this all… Yeah, right.
One hopes that when one receives a pension that it is sufficient to live. Bloody hell. I never stayed anywhere long enough to build one. Well, not that I’m not building one but not one where the company puts in. I managed a locked in $20K at one place. The rest is what Mick and I put away over the years. So I ain’t in any retirement position yet.
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Well … I did “retire” earlier than I probably should have. If I worked a few more years, things would look slightly better. But for my mental and emotional health, I simply couldn’t work in that job anymore. I did what I needed to do to protect my health. Now, I just need to figure out the path I need to travel on for the next few years.
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I get it. And I’m sure you’ll figure it out.
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I wish I could offer a prayer, but I don’t know any. Wish I could write a song for you, but I don’t do that. I’ve been to the funeral of a young man before, one I barely knew – barely even knew the family, but my dad and mom did, so I went. That was last year. Open casket too. When the family started wailing near the end of the ceremony, I felt like I’d been decimated. Just ripped down as though someone was insisting that I be rebuilt, and that I be better, and protect the young people who deserve to have their years ahead of them.
I don’t know what else to say, Dale. This was really hard to read, but more importantly, it must have been so hard to be there, and to share in that pain. Wishing you my best, my friend.
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There was thankfully no wailing at this one. But watching those young men try to stay so stoic – that just about broke my heart. My nieces and nephew and friend who were all on the cruise with us in March got to know Pat (or got to know him more), and when they walked in all of them started to cry; hell, so did my two sisters and brothers-in-law. It was heartbreaking. Five months prior we had all been dancing and making merry with each other.
No need to say anything, Trent. I appreciate you reading this, despite it being hard. It helps to write it out. I apologise for my tardy reply. At work today, I read your comment and wanted to respond properly which is hard when service is crap in my dungeon.
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And I imagine by the end of that you were totally wrung out. I so feel for you, Dale. And I agree, let’s hope you never go through that again. Wishing you and yours well.
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I was toast, for sure. Thank you, Crispina. Am rather glad this last “step”, so to speak, is done.
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Closure. Although, is there ever true closure. But there’s other things to focus on now. When do the borders open?
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No. There is not. But the pain lessens.
Who knows? They extend it month by month. I technically could fly in but that changes everything
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Best to wait…
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You’ll know when the time is right
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Beautifully written about something so full of sorrow. Sorry for your loss.
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Thank you, Zoe. Much appreciated.
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What a lovely and truly heartbreaking tribute dearest Dale. I’m crying buckets of tears although I knew no one of them. But all those losses, young human beings, parents losing their child, the tragedy of it all, it kills me. And it renders me even more thankful for my protected life, where our worries and sorrows are nothing in comparison to the daily misery and truly terrible tragedies we see around us.
Blessings, courage, to Pat’s family, friends, you and all in that and similar situations!
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Thank you, Sweet Kiki. It was so hard to see the young men struggling to remain stoic, but holding each other up. His family and girlfriend – I know – were in a fog, which helps you deal with the hugs and condolences.
Time to heal, now.
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And YES, once is already one too much – always.
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Yes. They’ve already seen two of their friends off. Way too much for them, too.
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😥
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🤗
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Oh, Dale doesn’t get harder than and yes…never again… just moon and other happy stuff.
This was so beautiful…
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Thank you, Marina. I felt this last thing would be a way of dealing.
Moon is coming, tonight after work, if I’ve the “juice”, or tomorrow 🙂
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Many hugs your way….
In anticipation of your juicy moon.
xoxoxo
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Thank you, lovely lady.
xoxoxo
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🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗😘
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🤗🤗🤗😘😘😘
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❤️
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Well, you had me in tears Dale, and no need for apologies. So difficult to come to terms with such a tragic loss but a fine celebration of a young life well lived and fondly remembered. So sorry for your loss.
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Thank you, Peter. It’s a small thing but I really wanted to do it. I appreciate your kindness.
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This makes my chest hurt, Dale!
Sending my love, holding you in my heart!
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As a mother… I know. I’m sorry.
Thank you, my friend
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Nothing to be sorry for! I pray that what ever pain every around feels with them will take a bit of their pain away.
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No, you know what I meant.
And yes, I wanted to take some of their pain away. The parents, sister, girlfriend, friends… It was overwhelming
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I can only imagine
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And keep it at only imagination
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Yes, you may say you don’t want to do this again. So sad, so young. A great tribute.
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Thank you, Jan.
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Dale, this was certainly a heart wrenching experience. The friends of Pat showed their love and support of him and each other while staying true to themselves. I know this brought back difficult memories for you. Love and peace. ❤
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Thank you, Ina. It did. The young men were so good.
💞
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This is such a lovely post, written with so much love and even a bit of the kind of humor that only mothers with boys seem to have. I’ve known young men, in my family and community, who died much too young. Even 40–odd years later, I still wonder what they would be doing now if they had lived. I think it is a different kind of grief when you lose someone so young and for your son and his friends, well, my heart goes out to you all.
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Thank you, Marie. Always a touch of humour from me. Years of dealing with my own stuff.
Yeah. We can’t help but wonder.
I feel sad for the parents, having been there myself. I feel sad for his girlfriend, losing her love, having been there and I feel sad for all the friends who should not be losing friends so young.
Thank you for your kind words
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So sorry for your loss, and for one so young.
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Thank you, Di. It’s such a sad thing
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It is, and seems so unfair.
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It does. Life throws all sorts of things at us.
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Your closing comment says it all. And may I say that I hope you do not have to do this again either. This is beyond grief and sadness. So sorry, Dale.
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Thank you dear Jilly. I hope no one has to.
Your kind words are much appreciated
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May the memories of his short life provide all who knew him a measure of comfort and may you not have to endure another day like that again. So sorry for your loss.
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Thank you my friend.
Please no…
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I’m so sorry, Dale. I can only imagine how difficult it was, celebrating the life of a 22-year-old gone too soon. Sending hugs and love.
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Thank you, Robin. It was so very hard.
Hugs and love accepted and returned!
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Dale wishing you and the boys courage to get through this loss. It’s never easy, as you know. Everyone has said everything. All I can say is time helps, it’s strange isn’t it time does not stop life goes on. …💜
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Thank you, Willow. No, it’s not and yes, time does heal and absolutely life goes on, like that first song says 🧡
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It doesn’t make it any easier though does it 💜
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No, it doesn’t. But that’s life. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows as well you know
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Yes indeed, sending more support 💜
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🧡🧡🧡
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💜💜💜
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Harsh reality
Lovely tribute
Listening to Tears in Heaven as I type.
Deepest Condolences
I hope you never have to do this again.
I hope I never have to do it. x🖤o
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A reality faced by many.
And thank you.
Nice version, eh?
Iain told me from the first two notes of “Life Goes On” all the friends (pallbearers) lost it.
I’m in no rush. Ever. To go through that again.
💞
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Understood! 💜
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🧡
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💚
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💙
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💛
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💗
That about covers the spectrum! xoxo
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xoxo
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I hope you like the post I did!
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I don’t even doubt I will… I’m off to go see now!
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I actually came here to get your url, to link to your blog on the post I’m making.
Turning out to be oddly in sync.
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Goes to show…
😘
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It sounds like a beautiful ceremony, but so very sad.
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It truly was. Both.
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Beautiful tribute Dale so sad, again so sorry for your loss.
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Thank you, Michèle. It is much appreciated
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Oh, Dale. This brought me to tears. He looks so alive, so young, so healthy in his pic. I am sure that was a difficult service for everyone–I can’t imagine having to mourn someone so young. Hugs to you and yours–and much, much love. Let’s hug the ones we love tonight, eh?
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When we have sons the same age, it is ridiculously difficult. He was in his prime and was already living life to the fullest. Watching my son and his friends as pallbearers was heartbreaking. And, thank you.
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That image will stay in my head. As I’m sure it has in yours. So very sad
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Oh yes. He came with us on our cruise in March – so my whole family got to know him, as well. It hit us all terribly hard.
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