Sara’s close friend died last week. They had shared the running of the youth group over two years, committing to two Fridays per month. Youth group necessitated planning meetings. Planning meetings needed a beer and a glass of merlot.
A recurrence of her illness earlier this year meant treatment was palliative. Sara offered support, explanation and care and protection to her and her husband.
Forty-three seems too young to go.
Too young to leave a widower and dependent children.
To early to leave friends behind.
Her funeral was at the local church. The place was heaving. With seats for 270, there were about 450 people there. That is what happens when you have a big family, friends, respect from the wider community, work colleagues who care, and when the class mates of your children attend to offer support. The rector of the boys’ school assisted in the service. “The Priests” were there with Ave Maria, and Robbie Williams with a song I had not heard before.
As Stacy was taken to the car for her trip to Rotorua people spilled onto the road outside and she was “farewelled” with Hakas by boys from St. Pats and St. Bens where she had taught Kapahaka and Poi performance.
The “Khandallah Massive” retired to the pub for the afternoon as Stacy went back with her family.
On Friday we travelled to Rotorua for wider family farewell in the Maori way and for her final burial. The experience of being involved in the tangi was very positive and an insight. The events are very formal, and were conducted predominantly in Maori.
 We arrived at the house on Friday and were formally welcomed by the kaumatua, acting as the director  of procedures.
In the early evening there was a religious service with singing, prayers and speeches. Stacy’s coffin was open, and rather than people talking about her as if she was already gone, speeches were addressed to her.
On Saturday she was buried in her family plot. After that it was time for the official sit-down meal for 150-200 people. The organisation was impeccable.
Through all of the proceedings it was enlightening to be involved and witness the way things are done. Similarities with the way other cultures deal with the same events were apparent. We all need our time to grieve, demonstrate and talk and discuss. Maori have their own formal way of doing it. It was refreshing for the casket to be open, and so the normality of death to be acknowledged.

 

A long time since I have posted , but some good stuff to catch up on.

This is from the middle of July, that is when it was well cold. Isaac and I plus another son and father combo went hiking to stay in a hut owned by the scout group. The hut was originally built about 30 years ago. It has basic amenities- a small wood burner, bed spaces, water, gas cooking equipment and a long drop.

We hiked to the site, and stayed over Saturday night. It was a two hour walk through the gentle tracks.

The conditions were wet, though better than it could have been. It was not warm. It was a chilly night despoite all the layers. In the morning we went for a walk along thre river bed. The shallow waters were frozen, giving an indication of the overnight conditions.

The boys built their outside fire with difficulty as alll the wood was so damp.

An experience.