My Thoughts on Funerals

I just got back from my second one this year... and probably the fourth one I've been to ever (I guess I'd call myself fortunate). These are just some of my thoughts on the matter.

The first of the funerals was for a very vibrant woman who had struggled for a long time with cancer. This recent one was for a man who was recently married to the love of his life (this is her second marriage... her first husband passed away too), who died abruptly of a heart attack.

The first was filled with relief for her passing, and for her transition into a better place. The second was full of sorrow and questions over the suddenness of his passing. I knew the lady more than I knew the man, yet somehow, the man's funeral was infinitely more sad than the lady's.

When I went to the man's funeral, I thought to myself 'I don't know him all that well, I doubt I'll cry.' Then I looked around at people that I didn't think had known him even as well as I did, and saw them crying... and wondered 'why can't I feel?' That is, until the family members and friends spoke. At that moment in time, I was happy to know that I am indeed able to feel, am indeed quite empathetic, and am indeed a woman prone to sensitivity and crying for... well, for a reason. I wasn't the only one either.

I found, however, that the saddest part of both funerals was not walking up to the front to see the casket, nor was it the eulogies, or the singing. The saddest part was the breathing. The pausing as the speaker (whoever they were, they were close to the deceased) collected themselves in order to present what they felt was the most important aspect of that person's life. The quiet, almost emotionless, way they told it was nothing compared to the waiting. In those deep breaths, they conveyed the depth of their sorrow, the fullness of their loss. Just by inhaling and exhaling... the sadness was palpable. Not almost. It was definitely palpable. It was in those times that the seated people started swiping at eyes, or shuffling for tissues. Or, like me, simply letting the tears fall, to be dabbed away with a fingertip once it's reached my lower cheek.

People tend to say "No words can be used to fully express their sorrow" when certain horrid tragedies occur. They don't need words. God knows how much was portrayed with just air today.


Another thing. Never apologize for not being able to contain your sorrow, for being selfish and wishing they were still here. It is your right to have this sorrow and this wish, but do not hold strong to it. You are allowed to be sad, just don't make that the reason why you live... and don't allow it to stop you from living. Cry when you must cry, and laugh when you must laugh. Live how you must live, and die when God calls you to Him. This way, when you die, you will have... less regrets.









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On another note, I haven't blogged much since the start of summer because I have a job now, and I get up at 5 am, and get home, at... like, 7 pm every day... and on Thursdays and Fridays, I get home at midnight... But I love my summer job, so I believe that's all that really matters, isn't it?

On another another note :P (Another squared?) I visited my old church for the funeral... I haven't been back there since........ Iunno, March? Earlier? Before I cut my hair, for sure... people didn't recognize me. (BTW I DIDN'T MENTION I CUT MY HAIR!!! 10 INCHES AFTER PROM!!) By people, I mean people that have known me since... grade 2 :P I could walk by them today without being... "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN YOU RASCAL"'d =D All because of the hair and the shades... but even without the shades, it was the hair. It was quite amusing... as was the amusement from me about the fact that the friends of mine wanted to muss up my hair... apparently it's a big temptation for people to play with my now-very-short hair (which apparently suits me)... It takes forever to get the ruffled-and-disheveled-but-not-messy look, you know?