It's been quite a week as we laid our parents to rest at a service that filled our hearts with great peace. The journey to Canada — my parents' last — was in typical McAlpine fashion with lots of family, plenty of food, and a day of laughter.
We honored them exactly as they wanted in a relaxed and thankful manner at the Kilmartin Cemetery near Glencoe, Ontario. This place held special meaning for my parents plus Dad's sister and husband, also laid to rest, as it's where the McAlpine Clan immigrated in the 1800s. With a short service, family remembrances and a bagpiper performing on the hill, we honored all four dearly departed. Afterward we took a trek to the family farm and sprinkled ashes in some special spots. It was a perfect day and perfect tribute to the special people who shaped our characters, molded our spirits and touched our hearts.
Mom & Dad traveled extensively, but Glencoe always remained their favorite destination. They wanted to be buried in the Kilmartin Cemetery. Mom would sit on their headstone and say, "I love the view from here." Dad would have a big smile on his face, and all 5 of their kids would chuckle.
And now they are together and among their Scottish ancestors, and we will carry them in our hearts forever. Rest in peace sweet darlings.
Leslie McAlpine Hamp
PS - My heartfelt thanks to all of you who have sent your caring thoughts, words and prayers during the past year. You gave me strength when I needed it most and for that I am truly grateful. You also shared so many lovely poems that soothed my soul. Here's one that we read at the committal service...so beautiful, so fitting, so healing.
The Beauty of Death by Khalil Gibran
Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and
Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights:
Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body:
Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume
And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead.
Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my eyes are tired:
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit:
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.
Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for
It's magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests.
The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams
Are scattered, and voices of the throngs reduced to silence:
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity
In exact harmony with the spirit's desires.
I am cloaked in full whiteness:
I am in comfort: I am in peace.
Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me
With leaves of jasmine and lilies:
Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest
Upon pillows of orange blossoms.
Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy:
Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress:
Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your
Finger the symbol of Love and Joy.
Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems,
But let your hearts sing with me the song of Love,
Mourn me not with apparel of black,
But dress in color and rejoice with me;
Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts: close
Your eyes and you will see me forevermore.
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