How many funerals have people actually been to, and are they more memorable than weddings. I always thought that compared to some people I hadn't been to any funerals at all- 2 actually (although a lot of people on my momside have died). And a few when I was young I refused to go to- the only impression I have is a very strong opposition to the entire affair- like either I didn't feel I needed it or maybe I was secretly unwilling for my last memory of them to be of that. I don't know- it was the memory of me, arms crossed, sunken in the seat and just immovable and as my mom remembers- not talking. On my way there and all through the morning my mind was in a loop: I've been here before. I was here before 2 years ago for Sy's funeral. I was here before in this chapel 2 years ago on this exact weekend... I was compelled but tried to divert my impulse to say that to everyone I met at the funeral. Bcs what else is one to say- Hi. Other person: Hi. Me: Sucks doesn't it? Other: Yep. I managed to have a real conversation with only 2 people and it was comforting enough that I could find something intelligble to say to two friends I hope I know as long as I live. I extended myself to another person, having just glanced at the coffin, and sort of sighed, Hey, Dalton. (Which is actually the person who died.) And in the same breath I said, Hey, D.Paul. (Which was the guy I was actually hugging.) But it was strange because somehow I needed to say it. And it felt good and consequently a weird relief to be able to say goodbye in a single moment- even if it was accidental. Because before that it, as a friend said, seemed like we were in a play. Quietly filing in, setting up, unreal, as if at any moment the audience would applaud and this particular act would end, and the part of mourner, griever, friend of friend would end.
The other thing that ran through my head was that overwhelming sense that I was among my family. I mourn Dalton because they mourn him and I had that sense I was there to show my support for them if only in a periphery-sense. Because I'd only had 1 real conversation with Dalton- and that was when he thanked me for linking him to a surgeon. And his wife Tricia, the same- Hi, Tricia. Her: Hi... And that's all that's really needed.
And in an interlude: "When tragedy comes, it comes not in single spies but in battalions." And I see the horror of a truncated life, but perhaps his was but a brief and vibrant bloom:
Name: Dalton
Age: 38
Cause of death: Cancer (everywhere)
Wife aged: 30
Son aged: 1
What was said: love of God, sense of humor, honest, straight-shooter, love of wine, of things mid-century modern, of a life lived and not stilled...
And of course I had those ponderings about my own death which having been in a dark sense my entire I life I feel at most times- I'm reconciled to- if only in an abstract sense... and those odd petty concerns about the place you'd like to lay your broken vessel of a body- to take up space on the earth, or be fertilizer'd to the wind... to be flung into space, and how expensive are coffins?!. Perhaps for a tree to be planted above it, for the absense of astroturf to please me from above- for there to be a soundtrack over the silence of nothing left to say.
4 comments:
I don't believe I possess the necessary profoundess to comment on this, but I will keep typing anyway.
Death, it's a very, well, it's one of those things, that really is beyond human comprehension, yes? We understand everything has an end, but to what end? No matter what your beliefs may be, you really don't 100% know, do you, what occurs after our last breath has been used.
I think that's why death is so powerful to witness, because, even to the most faithful, there lies a certain degree of uncertainty. What really happens next?
You go to a wedding, and you pretty much have an idea of what is to follow (especially that night). But death, death is the ultimate unknown. And now, by attending a funeral, you're forced to acknowledge that death is real, that someone you've been aquainted with is now stepping into that realm, that you yourself will inevitably follow that path.
It's nervewracking, how do you prepare for the unknown? Sure, you've gotta have some belief system as to how things will carry out. But what is the definition of faith, other than a belief that does not rest in logical proof or material evidence. You are forced to reassure yourself with faith, but faith is unknown. It exists on ideas and nothing else.
But I think, for myself anyway, that's the beauty of the system. You see in our world, we have rules, we have a set standard. That standard is logic. Everything revolves around logic. With one exception: love. Love is not logical, love has no definition. There are symptoms and synonyms, but can you state a precise meaning of love in a sentence? No, it's impossible. I think the same thing applies to God. God exists beyond the bounds of logic. After all, according to our rules of logic, wouldn't God have to have a beginning and an end? Wouldn't God have to start from something? There has to be a beginning somewhere, right? God just didn't materialize one day from random particles colliding. Someone had to invent the particles. The very building blocks of life didn't come from nowhere.
God is not logical, love is not logical, death (specifically, the afterlife) is not logical.
What is the point? This is the question that consumes us at funerals, if only on a subconscious level. I'm 27 years old, I've never seen a dead body. I don't know what that's like. For me, the body is only a vessel, the navagational craft for the soul when the spirit exists in this plane. For me, there's no point in observing a body absent a soul.
In the end, the most unsettling part of a funeral is not only the finality of death, but it's unpredicatbility. Here you have a person, 38 years of age. Tomorrow someone may die at 112. I may expire before I finish this. Death is random and it's sudden and it's final.
You are a much wiser person than I, Mendacious, your words more powerful and poignant. So I'm sure all of what I have written contributes nothing. And that's part of, a struggle to contribute something, to prove we maximized our potential, that we took advantage of our gift.
I think it's a good thing to fear death. It's a person who fears death that still strives to squeeze the most out of life.
i don't know if fear should be the basis of motivation. although i see your point. bcs to me there's a desperation that surfaces in order to live up to some thing we're suppose to be striving toward and there has to be something beyond that in everyday life.
I've been to a few funerals, the first being Grandpa's when I was 14.
For those who have never seen a dead body, in the words of Kurt Vonnegut, "just wait."
yah i veto dead bodies totally. so not cool.
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