Ritchie Funeral Home

12/08/2025

04/23/2025

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02/24/2025

Instead of saying, "I know what it feels like", let's say "I cannot imagine your heartbreak".
Instead of saying, "You're strong, you'll get through this, let's say " You'll hurt, and I'll be here.
Instead of saying, "You look like you're doing well, Let's say, "How are you holding up today?"
Instead of saying, "Healing takes time", let's say "Healing has no timeline".
Instead of saying, "Everything happens for a reason, let's say "This must feel so terribly senseless right now".
And when there are no words to say at all, you don't need to try and find some. Love speaks in silences too.
~ 'Words' by Ullie-Kaye
~ Art by Jennifer Yoswa

12/26/2024

So many families are in my ❤️

10/19/2024

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10/14/2024

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We would like to take this opportunity that after 43 years in funeral service, we have retired and sold the Lenox Funeral Home to Jeff and Tara Cummings of Bedford. Jeff and Tara purchased our Bedford location in October of 2017, with the intent of them purchasing Lenox upon our retirement. We have been honored to serve Lenox since 1997, and feel a special bond with our community.

Many Blessings,

Alan and Kristi Ritchie

10/03/2024

I held a party the other week and grief came.

She wasn’t invited but she came anyway - barged her way in through the door and settled down like she was here to stay.

And then she introduced me to the friends she’d brought with her - Anger. Fear. Frustration. Guilt. Hopelessness.

And they sang in the loudest voices, took up space in every corner of the room, and spoke over anyone else who tried to talk.
They made it messy loud and uncomfortable.
But finally, they left.
And long afterward, when I was all alone,
I realized there was still someone here.
Quietly clearing up after the rest.
I asked who she was and she told me, “Love.”
And I assumed that’s why she looked familiar - because I had met her before.
“Or perhaps,” she said, “it’s because I’ve been here the whole time.”
And I was confused then because I hadn’t seen her all evening.
But when I looked more closely,
when I looked into her eyes,
I realized quietly that she had been here.
All the time.
She’d just been dressed as grief.

Sometimes it helps to remember that underneath our grief, there is love. It was there before, it’s there now and it will still be there afterwards.
I share this poem a lot because I think it encapsulates that idea of grief simply being love in disguise ❤

09/16/2024

Possibly the Most important thing you'll read this Year...
The following is the philosophy of Charles Schulz, the creator of the 'Peanuts' comic strip.
You don't have to actually answer the questions. Just ponder on them. Just read it straight through, and you'll get the point.
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners.
How did you do?
The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.
These are no second-rate achievers.
They are the best in their fields.
But the applause dies.
Awards tarnish ...
Achievements are forgotten.
Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.
Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:
1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
Easier?
The lesson:
The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money ... or the most awards. They simply are the ones who care the most

09/08/2024

I missed you quietly today. So quietly that no one noticed.

I missed you as I climbed out of bed and as I brushed my teeth; when I waited at the lights on the drive into work and as I heard the rain outside my window.

I missed you as I ordered lunch and as I kicked off my shoes when I got home; as I switched off the lights and climbed into bed for the night.

I missed you without tears or noise or fanfare.
But oh how I felt it.

I felt it in the morning, at lunchtime, in the evening and at night. I felt it as I woke, as I waited, as I worked. I felt it at home, on the road, in the light, in the dark, in the rain.

I felt it in every one of those moments, each one sitting heavier and heavier as the weight of me missing you kept growing and growing.

Yes, I missed you so quietly today.

But I felt it ..... so quietly .....