Today we cruised out into the Atlantic with Family on September Song to take Pete, Stephanie's Dad, to the place he loved so much to spread his ashes, the sea. (Pete died June 2008) How fitting that he should take his last cruise with family on a boat with the same name as his first boat. It was sad, but yet a happy day because we know Pete would have wanted it this way.
We committed the earthly remains of Gregory Peter Fitzpatrick. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
From water, all life arises.
Mother of waters, Father of rain,
you have taken back your own.
As a stream flows into a river,
as a river flows into the sea,
may his spirit flow to the waters of healing,
to the waters of rebirth.
SEA FEVER by John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
Smooth sailing Pete. We will see you on the waterways.
September Song, out
The ashes of Gregory Peter Fitzpatrick
We committed the earthly remains of Gregory Peter Fitzpatrick. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
From water, all life arises.
Mother of waters, Father of rain,
you have taken back your own.
As a stream flows into a river,
as a river flows into the sea,
may his spirit flow to the waters of healing,
to the waters of rebirth.
SEA FEVER by John Masefield
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull's way and the whale's way, where the wind's like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
Smooth sailing Pete. We will see you on the waterways.
September Song, out
The ashes of Gregory Peter Fitzpatrick
Stephanie reading a poem called Sea Fever.
Roses on the water
RIP Pete.
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