Death as Part of Life

I've been to a lot of Funerals. I guess that part of life is death. I'm not actually sure what the first Funeral was that I went too. It was probably my Great Grandmother's when I was just a baby. The first one I really remember was my Grandma's. She was all laid out in her Favorite Baby Blue dress with little white dots, it was her best dress, one she wore to special occasions.

This past weekend my family said goodbye to my Great Uncle. He was a Philly Native, growing up in Kensington during the great depression. I have very shaky memories of him through the years. He was a cool guy, someone who loved golf and family and hosting guest. The last time I saw him the Parkinson had taken its toll, but he still had his sense of humor. The great thing about this weekend was that we were saying goodbye, by remembering who he was. Remembering is both hard and easy. Hard because we had lost someone close to us. Easy because its hard to forget.

I find the stories the most interesting part of any Funeral or Memorial Service I go to. Stories of people I thought I knew, but find out something new about them after they are gone. Stories of someone's youth, when I knew them only when they were far older. Some seem closer to what writers obsessed with the American Dream would write, how someone over came this or this to get this. Stories that make you laugh and cry at the same time. Character traits that make you smile when you see them in children or other family members.

Its hard to say goodbye, but its also necessary. I guess the best part of this weekend was not just saying goodbye, but also saying hello. Funerals seem to become family reunions. I don't see a problem with this. I re-met several cousins who I have not seen since I was in Middle School. Maybe that is the best part, someone may have moved on, but we come together to say goodbye. And that coming together is the best part and the most honoring to the person who is gone.