It’s been a sad end of year as someone close has passed on. This reminds me of how our existence on this earth is so temporary and so fleeting. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We are, but dust. How all the squabbles seem so useless and all the bickering are just so futile.
French funerals are quaint and discreet. Nothing ostentatious. No loud bands. No loud chatting. Everything is toned down and low key. White satin. Blue satin. The cross. Holy water. Roses. Cremation. Back to the earth in the garden of memories. How fleeting life is.
You accepted me warmly into the family, always a kind word, always a smile. You teased me and told me not to bully your son because he’s your son. You were never angry with me and you accepted me as who I am. Me with my strong character and fiery temper. Me, who has “un caractère de cochon”. You are my second dad.
The loss. It’s hard to bear. Yet we knew. The Virgin Mary has come to guide you back to your loved ones in Heaven. You will no longer feel pain in your bad leg. I imagine you walking briskly or even sprinting, happy as a lark, porto in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Although I’m not sure if people smoke in heaven. 
I’ve lost my linguistic ability to write. My words cannot flow. Words are not enough to convey what I would like to say. Or it is I, who do not have the words.
Your ashes are back in the same town where you were born. The garden of memories. You are back to nature, gone with the wind. You are free.
You were so respected. So popular. You helped anyone who came to see you when they had a problem. From above, when you see the church filled to the brim, you know how you have touched the lives of many.
The priest said “Those who love come back to life. Those who do not love remain in death.” You loved everyone during your lifetime. You will remain alive in our hearts.
Joli papa in heaven, may you rest in peace.
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