In days long gone, 5am on New Year’s morning would have found me at a party or possibly winding my way through streets to get home to bed. When I say long gone, I think of a time before ministry and children. For over 20 years now, New Year has been a quieter affair. Sometimes family has been round and stayed the night with their children. Or when children became teenagers, there were the years of young people hanging out in the conservatory.

This year was very different, for as the new year dawned the life of a parent came to an end.

A final peaceful breath.

In the light of Epiphany, there are three gifts in this strange time of waiting until a funeral.

Our gold is the family relationship that we enjoy. It is by no means perfect, but we get on and value one another. In the two days before the death, we sat around the bed remembering moments from the life we’ve spent together. While there were tears, there was also lots of laughter and probably a realisation that some of our memories are shaded with a rosy hue.

Our frankincense is the smell of the continuing world around us, as in the days until the funeral there is a slowing down and preparing for an almost final letting go. The smell of the work we return to, if only briefly. Of birthday candles for at least four family members before we get there. Of ink and resin. Of book pages and cleaning products.

Our myrrh, the oil of care, compassion and love offered by others. It comes in kind words, cards and flowers, and in the stories others have for the one we miss.

And just because there are people who know me who read this, we mourn a death. There is no “passing” or euphemism for the finality of life. The life is ended, but the love remains.