Music: Gloria Gaynor, ‘I am what I am’… Good afternoon and a warm welcome to you all as we gather to remember the life of Farida Bouallam and to try to bring some comfort to you, her closest family and friends. In keeping with Farida’s ideals and values, this will be a non-religious ceremony which, as a member of the British Humanist Association, I am honoured to have been asked to lead. Humanists believe that, without the influence of a religion, we should try to lead good, happy and productive lives while showing tolerance and respect to others and a concern for our planet. I did not meet Farida, but having spoken to David and Kevin, I am sure-and I hope you agree- that these principles mirror her approach to life. But this ceremony is for all of you, whatever your thoughts and beliefs and so later, after the tribute to Farida’s life, there will be a quiet time for reflection – or a time for silent prayer if you wish. The most significant events in our lives are inevitably marked by a mixture of emotions and whatever you are feeling is entirely natural. From what I have learned of Farida, I do not think she would wish this occasion to focus only on the sadness of her loss, but would much rather be remembered with as many smiles as tears. And so, amidst the grief, this will be a celebration of Farida’s life – a time to remember, with gratitude and appreciation, the qualities which made her the unique and special person you all knew and loved. And there were many such qualities for us to remember; Farida celebrated the differences in people, had empathy for those less fortunate and had a caring nature. She carried her heart on her sleeve, and humour was her constant companion. But as with all of us, there were many diverse parts making up the whole of the person and in the following tribute I will try to do justice to Farida’s character and achievements. Firstly though, to open the ceremony I will read a poem called ‘Ridge Walking’, by Char March, which I think encapsulates the journey of Farida’s life. This was my life out here on this edge windy there - a narrow ridge sometimes I was scared had to squeeze my eyes shut hug myself to the rock crawl along on all fours mumbling mantras but often I danced the thin line whirling in the sun shouting in an arms-up, head-back laugh this was my life out here a slim chance with steep drops on either side but the views were bloody marvelous Born in rural France on September 6th 1956, Farida was one of eleven children in the family of Abdallah and Eliane. When she was 19 she became a mother to her son, David, and two years later, daughter, Marjorie was born. The children were still very young when Farida met and fell in love with Kitchou, forming a relationship which they would both find difficult to match in later years. Moving to London to begin a new life together, the couple settled happily and were subsequently joined by David and Marjorie, beginning what was to be one of the most contented periods of Farida’s life. But sadly, even the deep love Farida and Kitchou felt for each other could not sustain their partnership. In the following years, Farida met many different people from all walks of life and embarked on several new relationships, each bringing varying degrees of happiness, but never permanence. During this time she was sadly parted from her children, a heartbreaking situation for any mother to deal with, but she was fortunate to be supported by some good friends, in particular Danny and Nadine, who took Farida into their hearts. She became and remained very close to the couple’s daughter, Charlie, and the whole family was very important to her. Later, when David and Marjorie were older, they were reunited with their mother and were able to rekindle the close relationship they had previously shared. On meeting Theresa, Farida made the brave decision to move with her to her native Ireland and, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of London, settled well into the slower pace of life in Waterford. Taking to the lifestyle with ease, Farida became a well known and well liked member of the local community, spending several years there before returning to England. Farida did not go back to live in France, but she always retained her distinctive French accent and remained very close to her family there, respecting and adhering to many of the customs and traditions she had grown up with in her childhood. Although she did not follow it herself, Farida appreciated and understood the importance of the Muslim faith to some members of her family and had herself also explored other belief systems, including Buddhism. She celebrated the richness of her personal and national heritage, always being totally at ease and comfortable with who she was. To her many friends Farida was a gregarious, fun-loving, flamboyant character who was as well known for walking everywhere as she was for her ever changing hairstyles and appearance– living up to the name given to her by her parents which means, ‘unique’. Cancer first invaded Farida’s life over a decade ago, but the progress she made at that time led her to believe that the disease had been beaten. Sadly, however, it returned, and this time, could not be overcome. Although burdened with the knowledge that she would not live beyond her fifties, the latter part of Farida’s life was, in the main, a time of contentment and calm serenity. Apart from a short stay in the Cynthia Spencer Hospice, she spent the last nine months living with, and being cared for by, David and Kevin –close enough to Marjorie to be able to see her often and in regular contact with her family in France. In this caring and cosseted environment, Farida was able to assess the things which were important to her and reach a state of acceptance. Unbeknown to Farida, her sister had been attempting to track down Kitchou and, although they were robbed of the chance to meet, just a few days before Farida’s death, the two were able to speak together on the phone to express how much they had each always meant to the other – something which brought much comfort to Farida as she let go of life one week ago. We are seldom prepared for the loss of a loved one, even less so when they are still in the prime of life. But whilst the loss of Farida undoubtedly leaves a void in the lives of each of you, her life is ended, not erased and nothing can ever take away the lasting joy of having known and loved her. Farida’s life was not without its struggles and, like all of us, she was fallible and made decisions which she later undoubtedly regretted. It is often during the early hours of the morning, when sleep refuses to rescue us from such thoughts, that our minds can dwell on the mistakes we have made and in this, Farida was no exception. The letter I am about to read to you was written one day before dawn when, with a clarity possibly only afforded to the terminally ill, Farida expressed in writing the love she felt for her children. She wrote; ‘To my children, 4.50 am. Nice and calm, very lovely with the birds singing so sweetly. It’s very relaxing – spiritual – I am at peace with the world. It has been four months that I have been well – Kevin and David are the ones I thank, and not forgetting Marjorie. I love her as well as you, my David. Sometimes I still feel hurt and sadness because of what happened my love. My children, to the day I die, remember this. I will always love you. I will always love you two – you are my world. David, you make me very proud to have a son like you. Now, I have two sons – David and Kevin. My darling Marjorie, I love you and I am so proud of you. My darling daughter, did I ever tell you that you brighten up the day – my day – every time I hear you. You are so grown up – I love you. Now I have love, I have compassion, I have two sons and a daughter. I will always love you three – you are my children. Love Mum We will now listen to our next musical selection – Sinead O’Connor’s, ‘Nothing compares to you’. While it plays, you may each wish to reflect on Farida’s life or enjoy a special memory of a time you spent with her. Music: Sinead O’Connor, ‘Nothing compares to you’… We have now come to the time in the ceremony for the committal – a time to say your private goodbyes. After the committal words it has been requested that the curtains remain open so that anyone who wishes to, may place a flower by Farida as they leave the chapel at the end of the ceremony. Could you please stand. In this last act, comforted by the knowledge that her memory is already committed safe and warm to your hearts, we must commit that part of Farida which we cannot keep with us to the natural cycle of the world from which she was born and which nourished and sustained her. Farida, we wish – The peace of the running water to you The peace of the flowing air to you The peace of the quiet earth to you The peace of the shining stars to you The love and care of us all to you. You will always be with us - We will keep your memories alive. Go forth now with all our love and blessings. Farida is now safe beyond harm, illness and pain. She will be part of the world for all time; through the warmth of the summer and the cold of the winter, through the freshness of the spring and the mists of the autumn. She will be at peace, always. The memories and love I leave behind Are yours to keep. I have found my rest; I have turned my face To the sun and now, in peace, I sleep. Please take a seat. Thank you for joining in our ceremony today. I am sure there are other people who have been close to Farida at different times in her life who are unable to be here but who will no doubt be sharing in the sadness felt by you all. David and Kevin have asked me to pass on an invitation to you all to join them at their home in Wellingborough after the ceremony for a chance to continue sharing your countless memories. As I previously mentioned, during the latter stages of her illness, Farida spent some time at the Cynthia Spencer Hospice where she was cared for by the wonderful staff with kindness and compassion. In recognition of this, the hospice has been chosen as the charity to be supported in Farida’s memory and, should you wish to contribute, there will be an opportunity to do so as you leave the chapel. Our ceremony is drawing to a close and we will shortly be listening to our final musical selection. On whichever side of the Channel you were born, I am sure that neither the song, nor the singer will need any introduction and I am also confident that the reason for its choice will be clear. But before then, I have one more poem to share with you. Earlier in the ceremony I read to you a letter which Farida had written to her children. She had also, quite recently, written a poem addressed to you, her friends and family, which she wished to be read out on this occasion. So the final words of this ceremony will be Farida’s. ‘To all my friends – Do shed a tear for me, but do not cry a river. True, I was 53, and I never learned to swim, So I wouldn’t want your river to drown my soul. Instead, my friends and family, make my soul happy, And go on with every day in a new and joyous way.’ Music: Edith Piaf, ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’…