Death and funerals

How's THAT for not making you want to read any further?

I just got back from a funeral. No-one I know so no condolences are necessary. This was a co-worker's mother. And yet, no matter what, they still make me sad. They didn't use to as much as they do now. It "helps" having a personal experience I suppose. I looked over at the widower and my heart just aches. He's now supposed to keep going. He's now supposed to figure out what the new him looks like. The him without his wife. And soon he'll have to do laundry and go grocery shopping and change his answering machine and his bank account. And it will all seem sharp and painful but eventually even this uncommon, unfamiliar ground will become familiar. It's just not fair that it has to.

The last few funerals I've been to also put in me in a great deal of reflection about our father's funeral. And every single time I'm happy with the funeral we had for Dad. I'm happy all 4 of us kids spoke about him. I'm happy my sister and I created his obituary and personalized the handout so much. I'm happy we chose his Auction Mart buddies as pallbearers. I'm happy we had our friend design the flower arrangement (filled with wildflowers and what some may call weeds) that was to cover the casket. I'm happy we had some dandelions by the guest book. I'm happy it was an egg basket that was out to hold the cards. I'm happy we chose to use his spades to throw the dirt in the grave ourselves. I'm happy that we stood to sing his favourite song: And Can It Be. I'm just so happy that strangers to him might have gotten to know him just a little bit as his funeral.