A Few Final Thoughts after the Funeral

Gorgeous casket spray

Tuesday dawned cold and snowy. Two of our three daughters arrived from out of town later in the day. Many extended family members traveled into the city. We talked and laughed at old stories and drank a little wine at our house after the wake. Two required milk with their cookies and I had just bought a quart (we no longer drink milk or eat cereal!), thinking some might prefer that in coffee.

 By evening it was cold and clear, with a full moon about to reach peak brightness. Did I mention it was cold? And snowy--with some newly fallen snow that required the snow blower. An older lady or two in a walker might have to navigate our sidewalk later.

Wednesday was also cold--and bright with sunshine. It was the day we were to lay the body of my Aunt V. to rest in the frozen March ground. It was predicted to feel like about 4 degrees with wind chill in the afternoon.

When the sun faded behind a cloud during the brief committal service at the cemetery, I thought my face was going to freeze off. Most had forgotten hats. (Not Uncle J, with his 83-year-old head) Just 20 of us living souls surrounded the coffin and the snow was not shoveled with space for very many more.

Back at the church it had been warm with sympathetic hugs, good food, hot coffee and bright flowers. Grandma was cold and needed her coat retrieved during the luncheon. I don't think she was even told about the committal service.

 Everyone who wanted a spring bouquet to take home was sent off with flowers in hand, as my aunt would have wished. Fortunately they were tulips and daffodils, which are tolerant of a little freeze.

It had been almost a week since her passing and we were all adjusting a bit to the shock of her death, amazed at the speed with which the disease had destroyed her vital functions. Seeing her cold, lifeless body one final time was once again a reality check, while providing some closure.

There were quiet tears at the funeral. Familiar hymns were sung, like Abide with Me and my father's favorite, By the Sea of Crystal, with phrases that jumped off the page with fresh poignancy. The remembrances were well conceived. The loved one was well remembered, in a way that would probably have made her blush.

 There is an appointed time for all of us to die--and change is inevitable each time we reshuffle the chairs back on earth. Questions remain. Will Uncle J. survive his grief and go on to enjoy some happy years? Who will help organize the family reunions now? Will there be any, as the last few of that generation are fast achieving eternal status? Will a scheduled wedding take place on the property? Not likely. Will all the garden vegetables and pork roasts in the freezer be prepared and eaten? Hopefully! Will there be pots of flowers around the house that need watering daily in the hot sun? Probably not. Will anyone plant tomatoes in the large vegetable garden? I will!

Funerals require us to ponder our mortality. We are left here to struggle and find meaning in the days we have left. How long, we wonder? And to what purpose?

 So many wasted moments. So little time left? So much money spent, including on all those gorgeous flowers. So much suffering in this world. So much unnecessary killing.

When will it all end? How will it all end?

Sorry to be so morbid. Death is morbid. And death is part of life. And I believe that we never really die. But that doesn't make everything easy ... just easier.

And can I say, with the apostle Paul, that to die is gain? Today??