By Mgr John Devine OBE

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Retirement concentrates the mind. I’ve been updating my will, and I’d like to be cremated. Abiding by the Church’s ruling that ashes should be buried rather than scattered, I’ve set about locating my grandmother’s grave.

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The headstone also names her daughter Frieda, who died of influenza at the age of 14. Sent home from school on Friday, she died on the Sunday. My grandfather, Peter, who died in 1940, is followed by Auntie Monica who died in 1950. I was too young to remember her. She was in her thirties. Grandma Isabel died in 1976. She was 91.

 

The good news is that, although the grave is full for burials, I’m assured there’s still room for ashes. It’s in a nice, secluded spot surrounded by trees. My dog, Scamp, liked it too. We’ve been a few times since.

 

In the cemetery I’ll be surrounded by thousands of others. I’ve calculated that the population of the cemetery, at 80,000, almost matches the number of those living on the Isle of Man. Along with Catholics, there are members of other Christian denominations, Jews, and increasingly, Muslims. I have been involved in ecumenical and interfaith work for several decades, so it will be good to live it out (so to speak) in death. I’m now experiencing a serenity and security in knowing where I’ll end up.

 

There’s a conceit among the living that we’re the only ones who count. Yet the living form only a fraction of the human race, the majority of whom are dead. Soon I’ll be a fully paid-up member of the Communion of Saints. This is a doctrine we celebrate in the month of November. We do so specifically on the Feast of All Saints for the “real” saints and on the Feast of all Souls for the rest of us, included by the Grace of God and the skin of our teeth. Each time we celebrate Mass, we do so in the company of the Communion of Saints. Whether we live or we die, we belong to the Lord.