May there be no sadness of farewell

Published on November 1st, 2021

It is a privilege for Scuttlebutt Sailing News to share Eight Bells tributes for those who have passed, with this message provided to accept their passage:

I am free
Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free.
I’m following paths God made for me.
I took his hand I heard him call,
Then turned, and bid farewell to all

I could not stay another day,
To laugh, to love, to sing, to play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way.
I found my peace… at close of play.

And if my parting left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss,
Ah yes, these things I too will miss.

Be not burdened… deep with sorrow.
I wish you sunshine of tomorrow.
My life’s been full I’ve savored much.
Good friends, good times,
A loved one’s touch

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief.
Don’t lengthen it now with grief.
Lift up your hearts and share with me…
God wants me now… He set me free.


One such tribute was for Mark McNamara who died on August 20, 2021 following a difficult battle with cancer. His family now extends an invitation to celebrate his life at a memorial reception on November 6 at 1:00 pm at the Stamford Yacht Club on 97 Ocean Drive West, Stamford, CT.



The poem Crossing the bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson is put to music by Rani Arbo and sung by the Southampton University Chamber Choir:

 

Crossing the bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

When I put out to sea,
When I put out to sea,
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell;
When I embark;

When I embark,
When I embark,
And may there be no sadness of farewell;
When I embark.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound or/and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Turns again home,
Turns again home,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

When I have crossed the bar,
When I have crossed the bar,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

When I have crossed the bar,
When I have crossed the bar,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

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