Good-Byes

To this point, I have avoided funerals, because the one I went to, my grandpa’s, just made things worse. From the onset the pastor had taken over our thoughts and memories and ran off with them. Although he had never met my grandpa, he seemed to have a lot to say about him. Trite sentimentalities and pseudo insights into the complexities of a wonderful person. I had never felt so alone in my life.

So from that point on, I stayed away from final good-byes.

But with J. I felt, I had to make an appearance. For one, it probably wouldn’t have been any good to tell the family that I was probably going to hate their funeral service; and then I didn’t feel good about lying to them either. So, brave little Julian and I went. And I am glad we did.

It was a simple ceremony. Her husband had written the eulogy. And with very few frills and elaborations, he managed to bring her back among our midst. And so what made that terrible day good in a way was that, not only for the first time in my life I had arrived on time for something, which would have made her proud, but above all that everyone who had come was able to reunite with her through these few words, which would have made her very happy.