Funeral for a baby

The following closely follows a funeral I did for a very young baby, whose family I know quite well as I’d done the funerals for all his mother’s grandparents. It was a gathering of about twenty-five or thirty at the parents' home. The names and details have been changed.

As you know little Mark died on Thursday. He had arrived, in a bit too much of a hurry, on Wednesday the week before.

So today we will celebrate the life of Mark John Miller—we will say farewell, before we have even really been able to say hello.

Victor Frankl once said

We cannot judge a biography by its length, by the number of pages in it; we must judge by the richness of the contents. Sometimes the “unfinisheds” are among the most beautiful symphonies.

In his brief life Mark touched each of you in his own way as baby son, or a grandchild, or the child of someone you care for dearly

Today must affirm the love  
which Mark was and is
and commit his body to be cremated.

We are here in sorrow at Mark’s death
and to comfort the people closest to him

We understand that things sometimes go wrong.
We understand...
But we are still hurt.

We know that everyone did everything they could 
We know that Mark had the very best of care
We know that everyone has been wonderful

Nobody is to blame
But we still hurt

Beside the hurt, however, there is also love

And besides the mourning 
we are also here to celebrate Mark’s life

That may sound strange, but as we think about this tragedy, we will find in it a short life that is worthy of celebration

The facts are simple.

Mark had been growing for 26 weeks.

Mary had some routine tests, and suddenly on Wednesday, nearly a fortnight ago now it was necessary to do a Caesarian.

He weighed 592 grams—a pound and a quarter

On the Friday there was an emergency. Things looked very bad

But he stabilised. It looked as if it was going to be OK. And then he died, quite suddenly, the following Thursday

He was with us for a week
But he has been so important in Mary and John’s lives for some time

There was so much hope for him
so much care for him
so much love for him

And while we say goodbye to Mark today
we also say hello to the love that is the meaning of Mark’s life

Because love may change its form, but it does not die

We will all have memories of Mark, and of the stir that he was starting to make among the people in Mary and John’s lives

And today we will try to strengthen those memories 

And say hello to the Mark who lives on within us in our hearts and minds

Our thoughts are particularly with Mary and John

We think of Mark’s big brother, Gary

We think of the older generation

It seemed right here to name all the baby’s grandparents, aunts and uncles, and other important figures—to properly enrol him in the family

We think of those who can’t be here

We think of all the people who are close to this family

And we think of the other people who have been important—friends, doctors, nurses

One of Mark’s aunts, and one of his grandmothers then read pieces written by other members of the family, and a piece from Winnie the Pooh, we then sang together, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. And then I went on:

You who are Mark’s family are deeply sad right now
That is as it must be

Try to remember that sadness comes out of love 
and all love is completed in sadness

Sadness then is a kind of terrible privilege

We thank you, Mark, for this privilege of sadness
We thank you, Mark, for the special months before your birth
We thank you, Mark, for the wonder of your growth
We thank you for your few days with us in this world
and for allowing us to know you as a real person
We thank you, Mark, for that little piece of human perfectness you were.

There are no words to take away the hurt when you are faced with unexpected death, especially the death of a baby.
There is no meaning or sense in it
We feel anger, sorrow, pain

But there is also love

Mark centred the love of this family for a time
and that is why we celebrate his life.

Mark’s short life came out of love
and was the focus of love 
and it can kindle greater love

And now, while we play a little music you might like to put a flower in Mark’s basket [a casket is not necessary] as a way of saying goodbye

.......

There is a North American Indian prayer

          Do not stand at my bier and weep,
          I am not there, I do not sleep.
          I am a thousand winds that blow,
         
I am the diamond glints on snow,
          I am the sun on ripened grain,
          I am the gentle autumn's rain.
          When you awaken in the morning's hush,
         
I am the swift, uplifting rush of
         
Quiet birds in circled flight.
         
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
          Do not stand at my bier and cry;
         
I am not there, I did not die.

          In the rising of the sun and in its going down 
         
          we will remember him
          In the beginning of the year and when it ends
                    we will remember him

          So long as we live, he too shall live 
          for he is now a part of us
                    as we remember him.

So now we must say a kind of goodbye
Shall we stand?

Today is a closing and an opening—
a saying goodbye and a saying hello again
So while we say farewell to the Mark we were starting to know
we greet the Mark who has become a part of us
the Mark who lives on with us
as the love which is in our hearts 

Mark John Miller 

Your life we honour
your departure we accept
your memory we cherish

In grief at your death
but in gratitude for your brief life
and for the privilege of sharing it with you
we commit your body to be cremated 

          Earth to earth
         
ashes to ashes
         
dust to dust

Rest now 
at the end of your few days with us
your part is played
rest in the hearts and the minds of those who love you

May you find comfort
and richness and example in your memories
may you find support and strength
in your love for one another
and may you find peace in your hearts

So now, Mary and John
you will take your son
to Karori Cemetery
to be cremated

Our thoughts go with you
We wish you good courage
And the protection of your love

 

 

© Bill Logan 2001