Small Beautiful ings: Memorial Benches

by HILA DAVIES & illustrated by CHARLIE TO

I think that one of the most curious parts of being human is how we process loss. ere is something intrinsically beautiful in the way we come together to celebrate people’s passing, and our trust in the idea that our existence contin ues beyond the end of our lives. Sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Fields this week, I was sud denly overwhelmed by the number of memorial benches surrounding its perimeters. From MBEs holders to locals strolling in the park everyday to walk their dogs, the space acts as a haven for remembrance without us really realising.

Memorial benches are not a new concept for me. I have distinct memories of visiting my uncle’s bench in rural North Wales, covered with snow, the sound of water rushing by from the nearby river. By having the bench, an event so full of heartache has been memorialised into a place of peace. He continues to bring joy and comfort. I sometimes wonder about the people who stop by his bench, not knowing his story or the life led before it. Do they read the plaque? Do they stop and wonder about this man, a stranger, and all the moments that led to them sitting on his bench? I like to imagine that it is not simply an interaction between person and object, but also one between person and a life that is in nite. Similar to the last edition of this column, I believe that we are all wired to create