Epitaph

An epitaph is a short text honoring a deceased person, strictly speaking that is inscribed on their tombstone or plaque, but also used figuratively. Some are specified by the dead person beforehand, others chosen by those responsible for the burial. An epitaph may be in poem verse; poets have been known to compose their own epitaphs prior to their death, as W.B. Yeats did.

Most epitaphs are brief records of the family, and perhaps the career, of the deceased, often with an expression of love or respect - "beloved father of ..." - but others are more ambitious. From the Renaissance to the 19th century in Western culture, epitaphs for notable people became increasingly lengthy and pompous descriptions of their family origins, career, virtues and immediate family, often in Latin. However, the Laudatio Turiae, the longest known Ancient Roman epitaph exceeds almost all of these at 180 lines; it celebrates the virtues of a wife, probably of a consul.

Some are quotes from holy texts, or aphorisms. An approach of many epitaphs is to 'speak' to the reader and warn them about their own mortality. A wry trick of others is to request the reader to get off their resting place, as often it would require the reader to stand on the ground above the coffin to read the inscription. Some record achievements, (e.g. past politicians note the years of their terms of office) but nearly all (excepting those where this is impossible, including theTomb of the Unknown Soldier) note name, year or date of birth and date of death. Many list family and their relation to them; such as Father / Mother / Son / Daughter etc. of.


Notable Epitaphs

Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing bythat here, obedient to their law, we lie.

— Simonides's epigram at Thermopylae

I am ready to meet my Maker.Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.

— Winston Churchill

To save your world you asked this man to die:Would this man, could he see you now, ask why?

— Epitaph for the Unknown Soldier, written by W. H. Auden

Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!

Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare,

— Virginia Woolf

To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blessed be the man that spares these stones,
And cursed be he that moves my bones.

— William Shakespeare

I told you I was ill.

— Spike Milligan

That's all folks.

— Mel Blanc

If anyone at my funeral has a long face, I'll never speak to him again.

— Stan Laurel

Consider, friend, as you pass by: As you are now, so once was I. As I am now, you too shall be. Prepare, therefore, to follow me.

— Scottish tombstone epitaph

Six Feet Under

These rows of old headstones are in an Christian graveyard in central Kuala Lumpur known as the Birch Road Cemetery. This cemetery has a very large Chinese section but this older part of the cemetery was retained as a Christian burial area. I like the rundown and delapidated feel of this graveyard which adds a very atmospheric feeling to your photos particularly with all the overgrown, lush undergrowth and tropical plants which are obviously thriving on the rich nutrients of the soil!

Tiles for America

After the tragic events of September 11, 2001, ceramic studios around the world joined together to offer a creative outlet to the people of our nation. Thousands of tiles, reflecting patriotism, heroes, courage, unity, poetry, and other positive themes arrived in NYC, and more continue to arrive. The “artists” are represented worldwide and have been families, children, schools, churches, scouts, and senior groups. 

Each tile reflects the artists’ thoughts of sadness and hope in the face of this American tragedy and once again, shows that the American people will pull together in times of national disaster. The first New York memorial is located on a chain link fence at the corner of 7th Avenue and 11th Street as shown in the photo here. This memorial and the tiles on it have been shown in several television shows and music videos. It is also regularly visited by tourist buses. The second memorial is at the Tribute WTC Center on the southside of Ground Zero.

Duke Ellington

Located on the northeast corner of New York’s Central Park at Pioneers’ Gate (at 110th Street and Fifth Avenue), the sculpture of Edward Kennedy Ellington is the first monument in New York City dedicated to an African American and the first memorial to Ellington in the U.S.  The monument depicts Ellington standing beside a concert grand, on three tall columns. A the top of each column stand three female figures that represent the muses.  The sculpture resides within a multi-leveled semi-circular plaza at the gateway to Harlem. Though not a native New Yorker, it was his time spent in Harlem and the Cotton Club that solidified Duke Ellington’s influence as one of the originators of big-band jazz.

Edward Kennedy "Duke" Ellington (April 29, 1899 – May 24, 1974) was an American composer, pianist, and big band leader. Ellington wrote over 1,000 compositions. In the words of Bob Blumenthal of The Boston Globe "In the century since his birth, there has been no greater composer, American or otherwise, than Edward Kennedy Ellington

Strawberry Fields

This is the memorial to the late John Lennon known as Strawberry Fields and is situated on the west side of Central Park directly opposite The Dakota where John lived during the later part of his life and where he was murdered. The Central Park memorial was designed by Bruce Kelly, the chief landscape architect for the Central Park Conservancy. Strawberry Fields was dedicated on what would have been Lennon's 45th birthday, 9 October 1985, by New York Mayor Ed Koch and Lennon's widow Yoko Ono, who had underwritten the project.


Let me take you down, 'cos I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see.
It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn't matter much to me.
Let me take you down, 'cos I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry Fields forever.

No one I think is in my tree, I mean it must be high or low.
That is you can't you know tune in but it's all right, that is I think it's not too bad.
Let me take you down, 'cos I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Always, no sometimes, think it's me, but you know I know when it's a dream.
I think I know I mean a 'Yes' but it's all wrong, that is I think I disagree.
Let me take you down, 'cos I'm going to Strawberry Fields.
Nothing is real and nothing to get hungabout.
Strawberry Fields forever.
Strawberry Fields forever.

Arc de Brooklyn

Heading through Brooklyn I did a double take when I saw this familiar looking monument. Yes this is Brooklyn's answer to the famous Paris Arc de Triomphe monument. Only in America! This is in fact the Soldiers' and Sailors' Memorial Arch at Grand Army Plaza in Brooklyn, New York.

The Long Goodbye

My Dad sadly passed away just over a week ago on 6th March 2011 and we said our final goodbye to him today at the memorial service. In reality it's been a long goodbye to my Dad as he had been suffering over the last 2 years or more from vascular dementia. Dementia is a cruel and slow debilitating disease of the brain which slowly disrupts the mental capabilities of the victim, severely diminishing mental processes with inter-related effects on the motor ability to move limbs and body. 

Over the last few years our family have watched my Dad slowly disappear before our eyes into a forgetful, sometimes fidgety individual .... a mere shadow of his previous outgoing self.  There were encouraging moments however when that previous spark would suddenly appear out from the haze of the dementia and during family conversations my Dad would reply with his characteristic snappy and humorous one-liners that were so familiar.  

In UK alone statistics state that there are some 800,000 people with dementia, 2/3 of them women. There is no cure. There is no current viable early monitoring system to detect the onset of this disease. What these statistics do not reflect however is the strain and pressure that dementia patients can place on their close family and carers over many years. During this time as the disease courses through the victim not only do you lose that close connection you had with your loved one but you also have to care for their every physical need as well as coping with all the mental anguishes.  

My Dad was a simple family man. He provided a safe and happy home environment for my brother Alan and I as we grew up. He introduced us to many simple pleasures such as the joy of travel. In those early days this meant a two week holiday in Scotland. In those pre-internet days he spent a huge effort over the long winter months in planning the family holiday. Unknown to many people he was the master of MCP ... Meticulous Car Packing .... This process involved packing the entire contents of our house into a small car for the two week vacation in the hills of North West Scotland leaving just enough room for us to squeeze in - breathing was an optional extra.  

His love of motoring brought a variety of classic cars to our family from the early days of the nostalgic Ford Popular, through a memorable bright yellow Ford Anglia and not forgetting the classic Russian Lada which he was one the early adopters in UK.  

Later in life my Dad had the opportunity to travel more extensively and he revelled in the challenge of experiencing new cultures and particularly in sampling exotic foods and foreign beverages.  

My Dad was always known for his sense of humour, which was probably developed very quickly after my brother and I appeared on the scene. His quick witted and sometimes corny one-liners will be missed although it has already been noted that I'm quickly filling that void.  

One of my Dad's passions was photography which seems to have been passed to me whether genetically or otherwise. It was interesting to see some photographs my Dad took with a small compact camera only a few months ago and he still seemed to have the eye to capture a good image. Like a photograph that's all we are left with now ... images and memories we all have of my Dad. These memories of my Dad will remain with us in the coming days, the coming weeks and for years to come and it is these memories we must cherish for it is all these small memories that add up to an astonishing and full 78 and one half years of his life.  

We cannot talk about my Dad without talking about my Mum. Throughout the last few years as my Dad slowly failed my Mum ceaselessly took care of Dad and we must recognise and acknowledge her efforts in this respect.  

So it is time now to say the final goodbye to my Dad, husband to my Mum Doreen, Grandfather to Chris and Neil and Great Grandfather to Catriona and Emily. It is a sad loss and will leave a large void in all our lives but we must take this opportunity to celebrate his time with us and remember all those wonderful moments of his incredible life.  

There is an old saying "You're not a man till you have buried your father" .......... I stand here now as a man wishing I was still a boy.