Yesterday, four of us attended a memorial service for our sew make believe friend Nadia who died suddenly a couple of weeks ago.  When we learned the news last week, we were stunned and incredibly saddened.  It is, I suppose, easy to come out with pithy platitudes when someone dies but it is not an exaggeration to say that Nadia was an incredibly vibrant, sassy, stylish, creative and warm individual who I was very glad to know.  In fact, one of the things that made me particularly sad during the beautiful service was that I wished that I’d had chance to know her better and spend more time with her.

Part of the following quotation from Kate Atkinson’s Behind the Scenes at the Museum was read out by a family friend during the service. I read this book years ago and whilst I remember little about it (sidenote: I must reread it one day), this is something that stuck in the back of my mind:

This is my Lost Property Cupboard Theory of the Afterlife: When we die, we are taken to a great Lost Property Cupboard, where all the things we have ever lost are being kept for us. Every hair grip, every button and pencil, every tooth, every earring and key, every pin (think how many there must be!), all the library books, all the cats that never came back, all the coins, all the watches which will still be keeping time for us; and perhaps, too, the other less tangible things: tempers, and patience; [...] meaning, innocence [...]; and oceans of time. [...] On the lower shelf will be the dreams we forgot on waking, nestling against the days lost to melancholy thoughts. [...] And right down at the bottom of the cupboard, amongst the silk, and fluff, and feathers, the pencil shavings and hair swept up from hairdressers’ floors, that’s where you’ll find the lost memories.

I love this idea.  When I think of all the time I have lost, all the time we all lose, it would be lovely to get those oceans back when we die.