November 2nd, All Souls' Day

The day to remember the dead, those who have gone before us.

Today they remembered Prince Friso, the Dutch prince who died this summer after an accident 1,5 years earlier which left him in a coma. His funeral in August was a very quiet, private affair. But on this day the historic church in Delft where he also got married was packed with his friends, business friends and family. The beginning and the end of his married life in the same church, in the town where he went to university and where he lived for a few years. A perfect circle, although it feels that his death was terribly untimely, leaving a young family behind.

This evening I attended a special Requiem concert, in the church where my late husband and I were married. Although his remembrance service didn't take place in this church, he was buried in the small churchyard surrounding this 14^th century church, a church founded by Willibrord who landed in Katwijk, a fishing village on the North Sea coast, and walked along what used to be a branch of the river Rhine to our village where a church was built. That branch is now a canal. It is a historic spot, a place where generations have worshipped, had their new-born baptised, asked for a blessing on their marriage and buried their dead. (Interestingly this church which officially is called the Willibrord Church, is known as the Green Church due to the fact that at one time it was totally covered by ivy which has since been removed.)

This afternoon I removed the dead and soggy autumn leaves from my late husband's grave, a grave shared by his oldest son, so that their names were clearly visible again. It started raining, rain which only lasted as long as it took me to finish the job. In Italy relatives picnic on the graves of their dead on this particular day, but the weather here usually isn't appropriate for al fresco dining.

 Peter Sculthorpe, Requiem for Cello

The Requiem concert this evening was special. And very modern.

A Requiem for cello by Peter Sculthorpe was the framework, filled in by various pieces of requiem music, both old and modern. The cello parts were extremely difficult, and often very moving, but I did not know the piece and I think it takes time to appreciate Sculthorpe's  music, and to familiarise oneself with his compositions.

 Howells Requiem 2

The choir sang parts of Herbert Howells Requiem, as well as Versa est in luctum by Alonso Lobo, a 16^th century composer, followed by a very modern Miserere by Rudi Tas (*1957-), this last composition together with the cello.

Rudi Tas

The men sang a Gregorian lament, Libera me Domine, standing in a circle.

In spite of all this beautiful and clever music, I felt the strong urge to listen to some more traditional Requiem Masses, preferring Fauré and Dvorak. It is brave that this small choir dares to tackle this difficult and modern repertoire. But personally I found it hard to get into the mood of the evening, as I had to concentrate so much to understand the modern compositions.

It rained when I left the church. Symbolic for our tears, the tears we shed for the departed? If beloved relatives died years ago, is it really for them that we cry, or is it the awareness of our own mortality, of the near futility of our lives, the unimportance of our daily worries and struggles? We will be forgotten and who will remember us? But then there is the ethereal Lux Aeterna, the eternal light, which passes all understanding.

 Alonso Lobo, Versa est in Luctum