I did not know this gentleman very well, he attended my church and was always alone and friendly and blind. I say that in the order I did because that is how I thought of him. One of the shocker things I learned at his funeral was that he was exactly my age!! Wow! is that ever a sobering fact as you contemplate life, death and the future.
I like funerals.
For that sentence alone I probably set myself apart from most people, with even some head bobbing and knowing sighs. Who likes funerals for crying out loud?
Pat was a well loved, outspoken man. He loved Jesus and considered Him his Savior. I learned that he had a neighbor he visited and loved well, who made him a part of her family, who wept silently throughout the services. I discovered his favorite Bible passages were some of mine, and included the 23rd Psalm.
Pat had 2 brothers and a church full of friends who came out on an early Wednesday morning to say good bye. My count was close to 60. These same people respected and honored him enough to wear their best clothes and sing his favorite hymns , they found time in their busy schedules to set aside time. There were glistening eyes as the pastor gave his message.
My reflections on these things are why I like funerals.
People deserve to be remembered with tears and time. It makes me really sad when someone says, "I don't do funerals", as if by not attending we can stop death from taking life on earth away. For me it is the ultimate token of respect and love, a kindness so easily given a friend, acquaintance, someone you wanted to know more and had not enough time granted.
When I was sitting at Pat's funeral, [or memorial service as some would say], I felt as though it were a really dark night, no stars shining, and I were walking along a lonely road. Suddenly I saw a cozy home and a window was shining warmly calling me to look inside. It was not intrusive, like a peeping Tom, but a welcoming opportunity to see inside this home and family. It was filled with love. I had never seen this particular home on my walk before, so this view was new and delightfully friendly. Surprising how each room was different than I'd imagined, the decorating complimented the owner gracefully. What a shame I never knew this owner, I hear he moved on.........
I had a baby son die when he was 9 months old, and after the pain subsided a bit, I read the guest book entries. Comfort in a signature. That's one of the reasons I attend funerals. That, and the wonderful windows I can peer into, knowing my presence in the dark night will somehow be more important than any other road that day I might have chosen.