Spoked wheels crunch gravel as the horses make their way to the cemetery. The silver on their harness glitters and jingles in the sunlight as the team of
blacks toss their heads and tails to ward off pesky flies.
The wagon carried grain in years past. Today it is carrying 93 year-old Bill Saunders to his final resting place. It is a symbol of Bill s life as a farmer and rancher. His saddle, bridle, lariat and hat (turned backwards) were on display during the memorial service, reminders of how he had lived and worked all his life.
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Speakers at the service spoke affectionately of a quiet man who lived his entire life on the same ranch west of Saskatoon. His children and grandchildren recalled what he taught them, and the experiences they shared with him. The Saunders family home was a place of fun and laughter. Visits to Grandma Vera and Grandpa Bill s farm were a memorable part of growing up.
Bill s nephew recalled a horse that Bill trained to follow voice commands. I was amazed that Thunder could add, subtract and divide. Uncle Bill would never tell me how he did it. The secret did not go to the grave with Bill. On the way to the cemetery his daughter-in-law Louise told me Bill would keep one hand on Thunder s withers as he asked for yes and no answers.
Bill enjoyed rodeos, chuckwagon races and a monthly horse sale. I wish I had been able to join Bill and his cronies at these events. It would have been great fun and I would have enjoyed the stories.
As Bill s ashes were lowered into the ground along with his cowboy boots, the minister intoned earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Members of the Saunders family placed some dirt in the grave, then other mourners came forward to do the same. It seemed a fitting tribute for a man who had lived close to the soil.
Bill s experience is uncommon in today s society. He rarely strayed far from home. Not many people live more than 90 years in the same place, attend the same church and are part of the same community. Bill s death affected more than his family. A whole community mourned but they also smiled, laughed and remembered with joy.
I have been reflecting on the importance of funerals. Each person is an individual, valuable in the sight of his or her family, community and church. I think the funeral should be personal and meaningful as people feel the pain of death.
Life is more than a measurement of years or accomplishments. Life can be measured by the relationships we have with others. That is why people attend funerals. They come because they knew the deceased, and to say goodbye. Relationships come with a price. The price we pay is that there are times of joy, but there are also times of sorrow. Relationships are worth it.
A funeral is a time of remembering. Many funerals are bittersweet. They are bitter because we have lost a loved one they are sweet because we have memories we can share.
Life is unpredictable. We don t know what will happen today, much less next week or next year. Time is a powerful force, and one from which we cannot escape. Life is also brief. We count our lives in years but the Psalmist (Psalm 90:12) advises us to number our days and to enjoy life while we have it.
Suggested Scripture: Ecclesiastes 8:6-8, Amos 5:14-17
Rod Andrews is a retired Anglican bishop. He lives in Saskatoon.
