Always something there to remind me...

Two things happened this week, which neatly fit under the banner of 'things people leave us when they die'. Although, I will point out, this isn't a post about wills and probate.
During the closing words of every ceremony, I try to provide comfort to families with phrases along the lines of "Fred did not disappear with the end of his life and your relationship with him is by no means finished. He will live on in your hearts and lives, becoming as much a part of your future as he was of your past", that sort of thing. But along with the loving memories are the more tangible reminders of the life we shared with someone. Here are two examples...
Firstly, I led a service for a wonderful lady who was an extremely talented potter. Her work, which was infused with her love of nature and wildlife, was exquisite. Her husband and son took great pride in showing me her creations and, over the course of several hours, they would take it in turns to run out of the room, returning with a teapot or statue, which they handed to me with big smiles and bursting hearts. After the ceremony itself, several friends and family members told me they had pieces of pottery this lady had made and given to them as gifts, which they used every day. Now that decorative bowl, coffee pot or vase would appear even more beautiful to them than it had before.
Secondly, I was chatting to a lady yesterday about her mum and I asked if I could see a picture of her. When she bought the picture in, it was as if her mum was sat right there opposite me, so real was the likeness between them. This has happened many times before, but for some reason yesterday it resonated with me more than usual. I thought about how I have my dad's eyes and hair, my mum's hands and feet, and my nan's nose. When I smile I look like one sister, and when I frown I look like the other. My tastes and attitudes have been influenced by all my family. And my loud laugh, well, that's mine I'm afraid...
But my point is that we can still see and feel people after they've gone, through the things they have created – whether that's a fruit bowl or a baby. It's a comfort to see these things reflected back at you. Well, all except the grey hair anyway...