funeral

When we cry at funerals, I think we cry for ourselves.

We're not crying for the deceased, especially not at a Christian funeral. They are in a far better state. The funeral today was a celebration of our friend's life. It was amazing to see all the people whose lives he had touched, to hear their remembrances of him and they ways he had changed and challenged him.

His children all spoke. He was a well-loved, well-respected dad who left behind solid kids who will miss his wisdom and guidance in their lives.

I thought about my own troubled dad, and our troubled relationship. I envied them the closeness and security they had enjoyed with their dad and mourned the absence in my own life.

His wife spoke at the end. She was so truly and totally in love with him. They did everything together: work, family, life. She said that a few days ago she was rushing around, making funeral preparations. She wondered, "Where is my husband? I have so much to do! Why isn't he helping me?" And then she remembered whose funeral she was preparing. They were so intertwined. Completely one.

There is a cost to loving so well.

I thought about Mr. sitting beside me. I cried because some day we, too, must face this separation.

They were taking him to a near-by province for burial. Although he was an American his home and his heart was here. Mr. spoke to him just a few weeks ago. Our friend was expressing frustration over various issues this country has. Mr. asked him if he felt that way, why does still stay here? He looked at Mr. and said, "Where else would I go?"

I thought about how I feel about this country. I have not loved it or the people whole-heartedly. I certainly wouldn't want to be buried here. I know it doesn't make any difference once you're dead, but I wouldn't want to stay here.

And so my friend was honored by all who knew him. Looking at one man's journey, facing the truth about how frail and short life is, really makes you think about your own.

And so I cried. Yes, for his wife some. For his kids some. But mostly for myself.