Should auld acquaintance be forgot?

It's the first of January – Happy New Year one and all! I needn't have worried and whittled so much in the run up to Christmas, as it all went very well. Everyone made it through the snow, the food was plentiful and delicious (too plentiful, according to my weighing scales this morning), and even my missing parcels turned up on Christmas Eve. So I enter 2011 basking in the afterglow of a fabulous festive season, spent with all the people who matter to me most.
One of the highlights of the past week or so, came in the form of an unexpectedly heartwarming funeral. It was the one I'd been stressing about driving to in my last post. But, as it turned out, I arrived safe, sound and super-early (as always). The funeral was for an 81-year-old man who I described as leading "a happy life, filled with simple pleasures, shared with those he loved" – his wife, children, grandchildren, friends and neighbours. I knew it would be a ceremony with a really strong sense of family love (unfortunately, this isn't always the case) and gratitude for the years they shared together, but when the son stepped forward to speak, he created such an atmosphere of rejoicing for the life of his dad that the mood in the chapel became quite euphoric. I watched the front row of mourners as he recalled humorous tales from childhood and memorable moments of family life; his sisters were all smiling, their mum sat between them, nodding at first, then laughing out loud as the stories gathered pace.
I talk a lot to families about 'celebrating the life' of a loved one. And in that chapel, where it was hard to tell whether the tears were from sadness or laughing too hard, the unique life of their one-of-a-kind dad was celebrated in the very best way. What a privilege to be part of their farewell to him – I couldn't help but come away inspired, uplifted and ready to create some family memories of my own.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot? I don't think so...