Her Guardians Lost(66)

“Fine, thank you, sir. I’m not particularly feeling that good about attending a child’s funeral, though.”

Simon shook his head. “You and me both, Stephen. You and me both.”

Walking towards the chapel, Simon suddenly turned to me. “Cassie, although this day isn’t particularly filled with joy, I think you’ll find it a little easier once you get into the church.”

Wondering what the hell he was talking about, I followed him in. I couldn’t understand how burying a child could possibly be easy.

Once we walked through the doors, I suddenly stopped. Sitting there, eagerly waiting for me, was Uncle Billy, Chris, Lisa-Marie, Catherine, Hamish, Paul, and Callum.

My eyes immediately welled with tears, knowing they were here to support me, as well as to say goodbye to a child they never knew. I was overwhelmed.

Walking over to them, I gave them all a hug, thanking them for coming. They all knew how important this was for me, and it showed me they cared.

Taking in the sight of the chapel, I immediately felt at peace. I could see the statue of The Virgin Mary opening her arms to welcome the child below. The casket was sitting beneath her and my heart instantly leapt into my throat. This was definitely going to be harder than I thought.

Clearing his throat, the priest announced himself, and we all sat down to hear his prayers. We sang a couple of hymns, then it was my turn to get up and say a few words. I was nervous because I wanted this to go as smoothly as it possibly could…for little Lisa’s sake.

Walking up to the podium, I unwrapped a piece of paper I had clutched to my hands and stood in front of everybody, clearing my throat. “Thank you all for coming today. For days, I tried to come up with something suitable to give little Lisa’s funeral justice. I must have wasted a hundred trees in my attempt.” I heard people chuckle a little, so I fell silent for a second.

“In the end, I thought it best to leave it up to somebody who could say it for me. It is a poem by an unknown person, but I think the words are a comfort in such a tragedy.”

Looking at the paper, I stood for a moment and gathered my thoughts. I could feel myself getting emotional, but I wanted so much to be able to say the words I had down on paper.

With a deep breath, I began.



“‘I’ll lend you, for a little while,

A child of mine,’ God said.

‘For you to love while she lives

and mourn for when she’s dead.

It may be six or seven years

or forty-two or three,

but will you, ‘til I call her back,

take care of her for me?

‘She'll bring her charms to gladden you

and, should her stay be brief,

you’ll have her nicest memories

as solace for your grief.

I cannot promise she will stay,

since all from earth return,

but there are lessons taught below,

I want this child to learn.



‘I’ve looked the whole world over

in my search for teachers true,

and from the things that crowd life’s lane

I have chosen you.

Now will you give her all your love,

nor think the labour vain,

nor hate me when I come to take

this lent child back again?



‘I fancied that I heard them say,

Dear Lord, Thy will be done.

For all the joys thy child will bring

the risk of grief we’ll run.



‘We’ll shelter her with tenderness,

we’ll love her while we may,

and for the happiness we’ve known

forever grateful stay.



‘But should thy Angels call for her

much sooner than we planned,

we’ll brave the grief that comes

and try to understand’.”



When I was finished, a tear rolled down my face as I gazed upon all the people who had come here for me and the little girl. Most of them were crying, but others—like Simeon, Simon, Paul, and Callum—shifted uncomfortably in their seats. I could tell it was affecting them, but they didn’t want to show any emotion.

We lay poor Lisa to rest right beside her mother. I laid pink lilies on her grave because I knew they were her favourite. It’s really strange knowing the last thoughts of someone before they died. Even in her terror, it seemed she knew the end was coming. Thoughts about all the important things she cherished as a child ran through her head. Her mother was one of them, but so was the beauty of flowers, especially lilies.

Standing back to look at their graves, I had Simeon on one side, Simon on the other. Both had grabbed one of my gloved hands as we stood in silence for a minute.

“That poem was beautiful, Cassie,” my uncle said, cutting through the silence.

“Thanks, Billy. I didn’t know what else to say. I suppose it’s sometimes easier letting someone else say it for you.”

Touching my arm, he smiled. “You did it so well.”