In Rememberance

Oh dear....
Poor little girl lamb died this morning.

This time we gave her all the care and human attention that the other one didn't get, and yet when Mark when down to her this morning she wasn't breathing and was stiff when he picked her up.  He came and told me she was dead, then 5 minutes later was back 'False alarm - she's alive!'  She had started breathing again, perhaps brought back from the brink by being lifted and hearing him. He put her on the floor to cool her down and recover, but she slipped away again and we buried her on the croft.

As we were digging the hole, I could smell the sea air, the sun was shining and I thought what a nice spot it is to be buried.  It is on the same bank of the Loch as the cemetary for the villages in our area and has a lovely far away view - you can see for miles which makes you feel big, as though you are actually breathing in the landscape.

When we first moved into Kershader, our neighbour proudly told us the extent of his family's croft, 50 odd acres in Kershader, another in Habost and one in Lemreway.
'I've also got a plot in Garyvard' he said.
'Oh, are you building a house?' I asked,
'No, it's 6ft by 3ft' he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Co-incidentally while it feels like we have the blanket of death around us here this week, it is my Aunty's memorial service today.  My Dad's younger sister, she moved to America with her husband Bob when they were young and had 2 strapping boys.  As they lived in Colorado Springs the boys grew up very outdoorsy and we would often hear in Aunty Midge's letters to Mum of their adventures.

By the magic of the World Wide Web, we have been able to be instantly in touch with our far away cousins to send our wishes. They are having a memorial service later today and asked if we had any old family photos they could share of their Mum. Happily we did and between us and our other cousins from my Dad's older sister's side, we found these and passed them around amongst us.

Aunty Midge and Uncle Bob are centre front, with my Dad at the back left.  They were all watching a golf match, the course at the time being next door to the farm my Grandparents and later My dad had a tenancy on.  They must be about 20 - still in the post war era of heavy woolen clothing and flat caps!

This is an earlier one outside the farmhouse we all loved so much, grandly called Hepworth Hall.  My Dad had to give up the tenancy of the farm when I was 8, but how similar to here on the islands, that he grew up and was married in the same house.  My Grandad, or Boppa as we called him, has a fag on the go and Granny is in the white dress.

I love these old photos - what a perfect way to think of people who have gone now.  My Dad, Bill, died when I was 18, and his older sister, Shelagh, passed away a few years ago too.  But when you see a new photograph suddenly they are alive again - in the present with you.  Their smiles are contagious and they are looking right down the lens at you again, not gone, not forgotten.  Still around us, still here, just for a moment more.