Our church just lost another good man the other day, but at least he lived 'til 84, and had a happy life and loving family. The poem “Gone from My Sight” by Henry Van Dyke was listed in his funeral’s bulletin; here it is for your enjoyment:
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, “There, she is gone.”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me – not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, “There, she is gone,”
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!”
And that is dying.
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All the funerals at my church are thought of as “celebrations of life”. “We will surely miss this person, but we would not call them back to this world of pain. Instead, we look ahead to the glorious day that we’ll be with them again in the kingdom of Heaven.”
And this particular funeral got me thinking:
What are atheist funerals like? I imagine they vary considerably from Christian funerals, because atheists have no hope that there’s an afterlife. Is there more sorrow?