Waterdrops from a fountain

Today I sat staring at a fountain, melancholic and sombre as the time ticked on for the ceremony to start. I sat in a small hall, beautiful red curtains draped at the front, with a sea of pale cream encircling the ever-growing crowd of mourners gathered to celebrate and farewell the man that I refer to as Daddy Eric.

As I watched the water spill over from the top basin of the fountain to the next, I couldn’t help but draw a comparison at the initial simplicity of the fountain’s water and life itself.

Life, in it’s most fundamental form, is a fall.

We’re born, we live, we die.

And as I sat there, on the unexpectedly comfy conference seat, watching the water drop from the first basin to the second and lastly the third, the reflections of life bounced off that water as clear as the sun parting through the lingering morning rain.

The first basin, the smallest, is the start. Your birth, your growth, your beginning. It was on these thoughts that my godfather – or as I affectionately refer to him as, Ninong – spoke about your own beginnings, Daddy Eric. Where you were born, your brother and your youth. But once that stage is done and you’re ready to properly start your tale, you move on, much like the waterdrop into the second basin.

The second basin, we’ll refer to as the Basin of Life. This basin is much wider than the first, containing the entire depth of your life, and boy was your Life Basin big, Daddy Eric. From all the different things you did, all the different skills you learned and all the connections you made. Your Life Basin was one that our families will tell stories of for years to come.

And with your physical parting with us today, your waterdrop softly spilling out of the Life Basin, that takes us to the final basin. This basin is the largest of the three, and rightfully so.

This ‘Final Basin’ is the one that has the most depth. For as I sat in that hall, unsuccessfully holding in my tears as your grandson recalled his memories of you like everyone else, the connections you had made throughout your life rung loud in the quiet hall.

The true volume of this Final Basin, this legacy that will live on through the memories of the people that you have connected with share, spoke for itself with how many people came to the after gathering at the Arrighi’s family home. The laughter, the vibrancy, and the warmth that radiated through the house was as warm as your own gentle nature that I had come to know.

But, as all water drops in fountains do, your life will repeat and live on in perpetuity through the stories that we ourselves will tell of you.

I hope that our tales will catch a glimpse of that same magic your own remarkable life had.

Rest in peace Daddy Eric.

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