One of my favourite pieces of writing is a eulogy. Bit weird, I know, but stay with me. Written – ever so beautifully – by Aaron Freeman, it goes like this:
“You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.”
The point is the continuity of you. And that what you are extends beyond this mortal expression that will, inevitably, grow old and eventually become ‘reorganised’ into something else.
And I think these ripples of us extend beyond our physicality.
In words more succinct than I will ever be, Maya Angelou said ‘I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.’ The ripples of how you make people feel extend beyond you, beyond your immediate circle and out indefinitely into the world.
In September 2024, Johnny Galo passed away. When my partner asked me who he was and what he was like I said ‘he was kind’. At once it felt both totally inadequate but also a perfect summation.
Johnny was instrumental in getting a group of Karratha CrossFitters all the way over to New Zealand to compete.
His life rippled through our community in a funny, beautiful, quiet and profound way. Because of Johnny, a lot of us from Karratha get to hold memories, shared and personal, of places and moments and people that will shape us and shape our interactions with others for the rest of our lives. We might not think about it every day, we may not even be aware of the impact, but it is there.
And while that trip will always make me grin at the thought of pumice stones (IFKYK) and partner running, I will be forever grateful for all the moments and experiences that we shared. Not necessarily big, profound or dramatic but simple moments of friendship, hard work, beauty and shared joy.
It’s easy to look at the big moments or famous people and use impactful words like ‘shaped’, ‘role model’ or ‘life-changing’ and of course those things do shape us and the way we move through life. But equally important are the small moments, the simple things and the everyday beauty of a life well lived.
I don’t want to miss out on appreciating the gentle ripples of life because I’m too busy looking for big splashes. And I find myself content and so grateful to sit with someone I love in a space I know like the back of my hand watching another sun go down talking about a day where ‘nothing’ really happened but we did our best and shared it with other people we love.
Easy friendships, ritual weekend coffees, hard workouts and quiet moments are the ripples I want to share with the people I love.
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