Nothing reminds me more of my own mortality than on the rare occasion when I am invited to a funeral. I suppose the remainder will become more and more evidential the older I get.
Despite having several close family members pass away prematurely, as a concept, death still feels remarkably abstract and distant. Not that I don’t think about my own mortality almost every day, because I do. But I don’t fixate on it, or, let it steer the day’s agenda. Someone wiser has said that it’s healthy to think about death once a day. It keeps you humble about how great it is to be alive.
Yesterday’s funeral for a family friend, neighbor and Charlotte’s distant relative Eva Bendz Hellström was a celebration more than a sad affair. I didn’t know Eva very well but I have had the privilege of enjoying her humor, spontaneity, and enviable unpretentiousness.
Barkåkra church is both cozy and beautifully well-kept and the music and speeches held in her honor were both emotional and inspiring.
Eva’s children, Klara, Anna, Anders, and husband Bengt had arranged a joyful, celebratory after-church memory mingle in their garden.