We gathered with family and friends this past weekend for the memorial service of my father-in-law, Ron Rosenau. He put a lot of thought into planning the service, and I know it gave him peace as his death approached.
The service concluded with this choral setting of the Alfred, Lord Tennyson poem Crossing the Bar.
I don’t know much about sailing or tides. But, I learned that the when the tide goes out and the water is low, the waves crashing against the sand bar can make a moaning sound. This was an indication to sailors that the water was dangerously shallow, and they should wait to cross.
Since we take crossing the bar to be a metaphor for death, what does it mean to cross the bar at full tide? Yes, that death would not be treacherous or tumultuous but smooth, “such a tide as moving seems asleep.” A boat on a full tide glides over the bar easily and without any real indication of crossing it.
A full tide is more than just the timing or mode of dying. A full tide is the grace of a full life, and a life like his. When we gathered with friends and family, the house was full to overflowing as were our hearts. So many people had come from near and far to be there for the service and even more would have loved to have been there but simply could not make the journey.
My father-in-law was larger than life in many ways. He prepared extravagant meals, performed excellent music, and laughed to fill a room. When he gave the toast at our rehearsal dinner, he actually gave three toasts. He never did anything half way!
It was a full tide indeed that carried him across the bar. And I am grateful he was not alone, but most of all that he was not afraid.
Yes, we cried and cry still. Yes, we grieve. But there is no moaning.
Only smooth sailing and peaceful seas forever more.
Crossing the Bar
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.
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~What I’m reading~
The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo
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Now I have a much better understanding of this classic poem than when I first read it as a teenager. Thank you, Frances!
Beautiful piece!