THIS 1S MY STORY 2 of faith of th sf CELEBRATING A LIFE Celebrating Pam May 3. She was an active and dedicated member of the Sea of Faith steering committee and well known to hundreds of members as the principal organiser and administrator of our annual conferences, including next month’s, on which she was hard at work when she died.
A service of thanksgiving and celebration of her life was held at her home town in Sheffield on May 10. The SoF celebrant was Peter Fisher, and addresses were given by Peter and by SoF chair Stephen Mitchell.
Pam had a rich and joyful life: as wife and loving friend to Keith, as mother of four (“a great mum, who picked up our bricks, both literally and metaphorically, and picked us up too”), and grandmother of ten. Brought up first as a Quaker, but educated by Catholic nuns, she married Keith in 1949 after meeting him on a blind date! Pam taught English and RE in Twickenham, where she met the radical Catholic writer Cecily Hastings, who was to become a major influence. In 1973 Keith joined the European Commission in Brussels, where Pam became secretary of the Brussels Shakespeare Society. In 1987 they retired to Sheffield. “Pam was always a religious person,” said Peter Fisher. “She had a tremendous inner life, and she was a great poet, writer and reader. She developed an increasing interest in theology and the world of ideas,” which led her into Sea of Faith. She was “selfless, patient, non-judgmental, generous, one of the natural saints, who never gave up on anyone or anything”.
Stephen Mitchell said Pam had “brought to the administration of our conferences a flair and a competency which appeared effortless”. He quoted former SoF chair Maxine Green: “She managed the task with unflappable grace and efficiency”. But, said Stephen, “her contribution extended well beyond her administrative skills. In discussion she was penetrating and witty, sharp and profound”.
She was an active member of the SoF email list, “SoFnet”, and contributed to a list discussion on “Why fear P=: Donohue died suddenly on death?”. She had no fear of death, she wrote, but: “T would like to see to the end the careers adopted by my grandchildren, to see their growing families, to know what they all do with things I have cherished.
I would like to see my own parents’ memory kept alive, but realise it cannot be by those who never saw them. How quickly we all slip away into history... It is a sort of forward looking regret which must afflict those who come after and has afflicted those who went before, yet we do not give it much consideration. “Someone in SoFnet told me I needed to get a life because I did not care for novels or films. Believe me, I have a life which I enjoy very much without interruption by the fictional concepts of others. My sadness is that it will not continue much beyond the end of this century. I resent the fact that my curiosity extends into the future and will never be satisfied. Thus it always was and must be. Oh well!” And in her last email, posted days before she died, she added: “Which of our poets urged us to ‘Look thy last on all things lovely’? An equally good counsel is to look at everything as if for the very first time. It may not bring a happy death but certainly ensures a joyful life, and however sudden the death may be, we might be caught up in some joy at the moment it arrives.” Stephen concluded his address: “I am assured that at that moment, Pamela was indeed caught up in a moment of joy, and it is with joy that we remember her.” The celebration of her life began fittingly with Ravel’s Pavane for a Dead Princess. It continued with a reading by Keith of one of Pam’s own poems: “I have so many things to say to you.
There are so many I would ask.
A few, I think, that must be told And many others that must not be breathed.
How shall I know which I should speak?
My reckless heart cries ‘Every one let fall!’ My common-sense warns ‘Very few’.
But wisdom counsels ‘Which are needful?’ And the truth replies ‘Why! None at all!” Pam’s son Peter read Henry Scott Holland’s poem All is well: “Death is nothing at all...
Play, smile, think of me Let my name be ever the household word that it always was...
Life means all that it ever meant It is the same as it ever was There is absolutely unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?” And the service ended with fellowSoF member Teresa Wallace reading C.P. Cavafy’s Ithaka: “As you set out for Ithaka hope your road is a long one full of adventure, full of discovery...
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for...” Pam’s life was itself a celebration. We thank her for it, and celebrate what she gave us all. We'll have another chance to celebrate her next month, at the conference she was organising when she died - DB @ LETTERS Your letters POSTBAG Send your letters (hard-copy or floppy-disk) to: