'It was for the best.'

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Published by: John Taylor on 5th Dec 2011 | View all blogs by John Taylor

Tomorrow, if I choose to go to the funeral of a friend - I’m still undecided – I will almost certainly hear the words, ‘it was for the best,’ or, ‘he’s at peace now,’ or some such comment. The man who died aged around forty had profound and multiple disabilities: no speech or any skill in sign language and hardly any control of his body. And yet...

There are so many ‘and yets’ with Peter. I have never known anyone, able-bodied or not, with his ability to create harmony and bring people together. If Peter was in one of my storytelling groups, the story was better – how he did it, I don’t know. If Peter was around, other people seemed happier.

With a smile, a twinkle of his eye or a loud raspberry, he could reach people with severe autism and make them laugh. I’ve seen him diffuse violent situations on more than one occasion. And he's made me almost helpless with laughter by upsetting self-absorbed care workers when they ignored him. Peter had a wicked sense of humour and great timing.

Feeding him a meal was difficult: one spoon at a time, and a lot of eye contact needed to get the timing just right. And trying not to make him laugh: the most difficult bit. We often ended up wearing his lunch, but it was noticeable that some people almost ALWAYS ended up wearing his lunch: people who didn’t respect him.

Peter never hid his emotions: if he was sad, he was disconsolate, but it never lasted. His disability gave him no pain, and despite being a totally dependent person, he gave other people joy, fun, warmth and genuine friendship.

‘It was for the best?’
It was always for the best when Peter was around.

Comments

14 Comments

by AlanP 5 months ago

John, you should go to say goodbye. It is never for the best, it just isn't. Beside that it sounds to me like he enjoyed himself.

Go. Say farewell.
by Guero Davila 5 months ago

What a lovely epitaph. And I just read this to Mrs GD. Because it deserved to be read. A tear was brought to a lady's eye 'What a remarkable sounding person,' she said Then added, 'Both of them.'
by Jill 5 months ago

John, this may or may not give a grain of comfort as you mourn the loss of Peter, but a wise man once remarked that 'the most successful lives are the shortest'. I am not quoting this in the same vein as 'It was for the best', rest assured. However, whether we are to believe this notion or not, Peter seems to have lived a very successful life and enhanced those of many others. His legacy will live on through them... Jx
by Skylark 5 months ago

What Alan said.
by Gerilyn 5 months ago

I read a poem at my dad's funeral called 'At rest'. It was written specifically for those whose lives were cut short. I find this paragraph particularly comforting:

And in my fleeting lifespan,
as time went rushing by
I found some time to hesitate,
to laugh, to love, to cry.
Matters it now if time began
If time will ever cease?
I was here, I used it all,
and now I am at peace.

Peter is very fortunate that he has people like you to remember him fondly and keep his memory alive. x
by Caducean Whisks 5 months ago

John, I know what you mean - the platitudes to placate which make me (and you it seems) want to scream.
I've been to a lot of funerals as you probably have, and always been glad that I've gone. It's the last chance you get to show overt respect for someone, to do it properly for them. I also think it likely that the late person is at their own funeral, watching to see who turns up! I would, if it were at all possible!
You're a rare person, finding the humanity and joy and mischief in someone so apparently disabled. Just by writing this blog you've made me think and passed on Peter's legacy. Just stick daisies in your ears if you don't want to hear the nonsense. He'll be pleased to see you there.
God speed Peter, go well. You made a difference.
by MinxieAD 5 months ago

This is a wonderful tribute.

Funerals are a time to grieve, but they're also a time to celebrate the life of a good friend. He sounds well worth celebrating, John. Whatever you decide, I'm sure he'll always be in your thoughts.
by Tony 5 months ago

A lovely tribute, John, to a man who sounds like a lovely friend. I'm sure others at the service tomorrow would appreciate hearing it, too, if that were possible. I suppose not at this late stage, not officially, but if you feel able to go you'll be able to pass on its sentiments in private conversations, at least.
by Wrathnar the Unreasonable 5 months ago

Very moving, John. I guess the problem with platitudes is that there's really nothing you can say to the bereaved, yet you have to say something, to show that you care. If you do go to the funeral and end up wishing you hadn't, that will be easier to cope with than the other way round.
by CJ 5 months ago

This is what should be said at his funeral, John - not the false platitudes of strangers. When my sister in law died, aged 17 years old, we were left even more bereft at the poor choice of platitudes by a priest just doing his job (telling a bereaved family that the reason she died was because God loved her so much, implying that we didn't love her enough... yeah, that hurt. Don't want to turn this into a 'why religion is great / wrong / good /evil' thing, so please, out of respect of John and those taken too soon, please don't turn it into one. I am just relating how words may sound comforting to others are just a stab in the gut for others). But, even with that terrible experience, I am forever glad we did go, simply so we could say goodbye in our own way. Wrath said it: If you do go to the funeral and end up wishing you hadn't, that will be easier to cope with than the other way round. Couldn't agree more.
by Barry Walsh 5 months ago

Agree with Elysia, these thoughts should be heard at Peter's funeral. In my experience, most priests or others who officiate at funerals would much rather someone close spoke about the departed. It's usually an absence of anyone wishing to, or those who are close feeling too upset to speak that leaves the duty to them. Platitudes are rarely false but, sadly, they're also rarely right.
by Jill 5 months ago

Agree with Elysia and Barry about personal eulogies, but I have experience, for instance, of the officiator at my mother's cremation service giving a beautiful, non-platitudinal eulogy from the snippets he had gleaned from us at his post-death/pre-service visit. I overheard someone say, 'It is almost as though he knew her', (which he did not). Also, it is not always possible to pay one's respects at the service - for instance, through sheer distance - but there are always ways. Recently, although we had intended to attend a distant service for a very dear old friend, we were unable at the last minute. Instead, we visited a nearby cathedral and spent reflective time quietly, to coincide with the service. This gesture was appreciated by the widow.

Gerilyn, that verse is beautiful and I can understand why it gives you comfort.
by Mcallan 5 months ago

I've come to this late as usual but have to echo all of the above sentiments. He sounds a truly remarkable guy. That was a lovely verse Geri and well done you for reading it.
It was mother in laws funeral last Thursday, and my two sons both wanted to say something to their gran. James, the youngest, read a beautiful poem. John, his elder brother simply read a list of grandma's sayings; things that reminded him of her. I was ok until that point then my face collapsed in smiles and tears, along with everyone else. She would have been proud of them.
by John Taylor 5 months ago

To thank you all individually for your support isn't possible at the moment, but I will get round to it.
Just back from the funeral. The priest, Jill, was Peter's physiotherapist, and I first met her with Peter in a hydrotherapy pool in 1985. I should have thought from his parents' address who would be taking the service: he was in a nursing home in a different parish, and I dreaded the worst.
Jill has known Peter since he was a child, and was simply wonderful. His brother and father spoke, and I had a tearful hug from his mum. Reverential closing music: The Bare Necessities from Jungle Book.