The Funeral
"Wow , this church is packed!" I say to myself as I stand in the back with several other mourners. I'm not even sure if this is the right funeral, since I overheard just yesterday that the ceremony was being held here, today at ten a.m. Should I sit on the side of family, or on the side of friends? I look around, trying to see if I recognize anyone. Most people have their heads bowed in grief or covered in veils. Both men and women are wearing hats tipped low to shadow their teary eyes. I can't make out their faces. I'll stand here for awhile and wait for a seat to open up.
Some people leave as more arrive. Most acknowledge one another in passing, relating how sorry they are at the passing of the deceased. They seem to know each other in some capacity. I see people in various uniforms that lead me to beieive they are healthcare workers of some sort. These must be co-workers of the deceased. They seem sad in some instances and in various states of disbelief and pity in others. Some of these people look like I may have seen them before, but who's to say, we meet so many people in our lives. Even though some of the mourners look vaguely familiar, none of them approach me to utter condolances or share anecdotes about our mutual friend, the deceased. There still isn't anywhere to sit, I'll stay in back a little longer.
When I first arrived, a choir was singing and then a minister started saying things about the person laid out below him in a half-opened casket surrounded by an elaborate array of beautiful flowers. The minister directed sympathies at the deceased's immediate family members seated in the front row of the church. From where I'm standing, I can barely make out what looks like an older lady, a middle aged man, two adult males with adult women clinging to their shoulders and several children, male and female between the ages of three and twelve. My heart swells in my chest as I hear the minister telling the congregation that this family has lost a daughter, wife, mother and grandmother. A few people have gone up to the podium to say a few words, or relate the happy experiences shared with the deceased. More people come and go as I am almost brought to tears by some of the kind, loving words expressed by the mourners.
While I am still in back, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand, I notice that a line has formed and people are making their way up to the front. Apparently, this is the time to pay last respects to the deceased and show sympathy to the family members. As the line files past the casket, some people shake their heads, some genuflect and some just look away after taking a quick glance inside. Some place a hand on the shoulder of one or more family members. Others even go as far as to hug some of the family. It is truly a huge show of emotions and affection. This person was really loved and appreciated. Though I still cannot make out the faces of the family members, I now feel that I am at the right ceremony. I make my way into the line to view the casket. It is still very long and I have to inch my way forward.
As I get ever closer to the front of the church, I look around and see quite a few familiar faces. I see co-workers, friends, neighbors and acquaintences. I notice aunts, uncles, cousins, neices and nephews, none of which seem to notice me. Now that I am almost to the front, I see the family and I look lovingly at each one in turn. The older lady who still wears her hair in a bun and smells fantly of the perfume I remember as a child. The middle aged man whose black beard has now gone salt and pepper but still has the twinkle in his eyes that I first fell in love with, even if today shadowed by grief. The two adult males that are almost spitting images of the man beside them, their father. The adult women, slightly older versions of the young girls I saw married not too many years ago. Finally the children. I look at them and see the babies they once were and can almost feel each one of them in my arms when I went to visit them as newborns in the hospital.
I turn slightly to look into the casket and am certain now that I am in the right place, at the right ceremony. The person I see lying there looks peaceful and stress free. The deceased knows that she was loved and has had a very full and rich life full of family, friends and happiness. As is witnessed by the attendance at this ceremony, she will be both missed and remembered by many. Yes, I am in the right place.
I take one, last look around and make my way out of the church. No one sees me. It is my funeral.