Monday, September 12, 2005


aren't the very worst thing in the world.

We buried one of my Dad's oldest and closest friends today. He died suddenly two weeks ago while staying at our farm on the Riverina where he had been blissfully happy feeding the wrens, fixing gates, tinkering with machinery and nursing two poddy calves.

Today, we all looked over at the simple wooden coffin and wondered how such an enormous man could possibly fit into such a small space.

Today, people came from across the country and across the world to share stories of the man as father, husband, friend and colleague. We all learned something more about someone we felt we knew so well. We smiled at each other and poured champagne. We ate chocolate cake and learned about the other people in his life and how he had effected them. Bewildered strangers arrived at our home after the service and new friends left it hours later.

Maybe funerals aren't the very worst thing in the world.