Steven Ralph | September 2023
Being asked to lead a celebration of life is always such a privilege, it sort of stops me in my tracks. The idea that a family would trust you enough to lead everyone in saying goodbye.
And my first impression, from meeting Steven’s wife Pauline and hearing from his friends, was that Steven was well-loved. Extremely well-loved.
And my first impression was confirmed when, at the venue at Belsay Woodland Burials, mourners poured into the room in their pairs, groups, dozens and soon it was standing room only in Blacksmith’s Barn, a room that seats 100. Then it went from standing room only to having to open the glass doors and have throngs of people standing in the car park, watching into the room. To say the place was packed was an understatement, and it was tangible proof of the ripples Steven’s life had made. I felt emotional looking out at all the people: those sat before me, those watching from the lobby on the left, the extra benches that had been carried in at the back and from the car park outside on the right. The microphone was playing up so I projected my voice out to everyone as I shared stories from Steven’s 67 full years of family, sport, travel and adventure.
Pauline had told me beautiful, sweet and funny stories of their life as husband and wife. Steven was so often late it became known as ‘Ralph Time’. Once, on holiday in South Africa they saw the Simple Formula for Living poem framed on a cafe wall, and both loved it (despite its reference to being punctual) so I read it in the service.
Live beneath your means.
Return everything you borrow.
Stop blaming other people.
Admit it when you make a mistake.
Give clothes not worn to charity.
Do something nice and try not to get caught.
Listen more, talk less.
Every day, take a 30 minute walk.
Strive for excellence, not perfection.
Be on time.
Don't make excuses.
Don't argue.
Get organised.
Be kind to unkind people.
Let someone cut ahead of you in line.
Take time to be alone.
Cultivate good manners.
Be humble.
Realise and accept that life isn't fair.
Know when to keep your mouth shut.
Go an entire day without criticising anyone.
Learn from the past.
Plan for the future.
Live in the present
Don't sweat the small stuff.
It's all small stuff.
Pauline also read a poem of her own which, as I’m sure you can imagine, absolutely brought the house down. I was blown away that she had the bravery to stand and speak, in her grief. Steven’s best friend Andy also read a poem he’d written for his friend and, again, it was so apparent to me the impact Steven had had on those around him.
The huge crowd of us - a couple of hundred people - then took single stems of roses each and processed behind Steven’s coffin as it was horse-drawn on a cart down to the woodland burial site, many of us changing from smart shoes or heels to walking boots to better contend with the muddy fields outside. At the graveside, at Pauline’s request, I read this moving extract from The Amber Spyglass, by Philip Pullman, and Steven’s children Will and Patrick, his daughters-in-law Ellie and Marie, and his other friends and family said their goodbyes to a man who won’t be forgotten. And a man whose crowded, stirring celebration of life I certainly won’t forget.
I will love you forever; whatever happens. Till I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again…
I’ll be looking for you, every moment, every single moment. And when we do find each other again, we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you…
We’ll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams…
And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me, we’ll be joined so tight…