THE BARROW In this high field strewn with stones I walk by a green mound, Its edges sheared by the plough. Crumbs of animal bone Lie smashed and scattered round Under the clover leaves And...

The face of the dead man was concealed, of course, our customs not being those of the south, where corpses are carried to the grave in open coffins, that they might – one last time...

Whilst the wolflets bayed, A grave was made, And then with the strokes of a silver spade, It was filled to make a mound. And for two cold days and three long nights, The father...

…our loves ones truly are ever-present. We may bury their bodies or scatter their ashes, but their spirits are boundless and do not accompany them to the grave. The terms ‘letting go’ and ‘closure’ are...

Elaborate burial customs are a sure sign of decadence.

We’re going to meet a lot of lonely people in the next week and the next month and the next year. And when they ask us what we’re doing, you can say, We’re remembering. That’s...

Have you ever wondered why we bury and cremate our dead? Nothing to do with hygiene, it’s just so we don’t have to see the reality of death. You know, the Zoroastrians used to leave...

What actually happens when you die is that your brain stops working and your body rots, like Rabbit did when he died and we buried him in the earth at the bottom of the garden....

No! no! My engagement is with no bride–the worms! the worms expect me! I am a dead man–I have been slain by robbers–my body lies at Wurtzburg–at midnight I am to be buried–the grave is...

Ah, this delicious night air,’ she said, luxuriously sniffing in the coolness. ‘Night air and gardening are the great tonics. There is nothing so stimulating as bare contact with rich mother earth. You are never...

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching Earth;Lie close around her; leave no room for mirthWith its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.She hath no questions, she hath...

Anyway, they took her body to McBurney’s Funeral Home in Motley. They’ll be planting her tomorrow.

I remember that day in early May after Le Vesconte’s and Private Pilkington’s brief joint burial service, one of the men suggested that we name the small spur of land where they were buried “Le...

The more death, the more birth. People are entering, others are exiting. The cry of a baby, the mourning of others. When others cry, the other are laughing and making merry. The world is mingled...

Delay is not a help-mate. The cemetary is full of people who thought they could DO IT tomorrow. Do It Now!

Don’t be decieved by your mortality, you’re just a piece of debris, and the sophisticated one lies inside us which was either created or would be destroyed.

Natalie was buried in the family plot, next to a gravestone that already bore her parents’ names. I know the wisdom, that no parents should see their child die, that such an event is like...

My life will end someday, but it will end at my convenience.

Not everyone who died had left a “memory” and not everyone who had left a memory had left a “blessed” one. Therefore, not all have died should be tagged “…of a blessed memory

Don’t cry for the dead, for the dead is deaf, dumb, blind, lame, unemotional and dead.

At first are moving tombs on the surface of the surface of the earth; then we become static tombs in the brims of the cemetary soil; waiting to become eternal people in fellowship for God....

The Kikuyu, when left to themselves, do not bury their dead, but leave them above ground for the hyenas and vultures to deal with. The custom had always appealed to me, I thought that it...

Grave is a journey not a destination

A sematary,” I say. “A what?” Viola says, looking round at all the square stones marking out their graves. Must be a hundred, maybe two, in orderly rows and well-kept grass. Settler life is hard...

A burial should be more than a fire pit, arena seating, and a squirming politician strapped to a pile of wood. There should also be marshmallows.

Whether you lay cold in the ground or warm in an urn the turmoils of life aren’t a concern. For some this may be the perfect rhyme except for those you leave behind…