Marriage Moats-The Funeral

Published: Sat, 01/14/12

Marriage Moats

Caring for Marriage

(If you want to hear Lori read the story click)here

I am grateful for funerals. There have been more than a dozen this year in my wee town, and although they are brimming with loss, memorial services are a celebration of a life as well.

One funeral I went to was practically a bash. There was enough food for the 500 people at the reception, and we saw a great slide show of her life. The woman had already handmade her Christmas cards, so they were scattered on the tables for people to take home. I whispered to John that I wanted to do that too.

Another funeral was for a Brazilian man in his thirties. The priest spoke in both English and Portuguese. The church was more crowded than I have ever seen it and rumor had it that a thousand more people were watching online in three countries. One of the ways he described the man we were all gathered to honor, was that he sometimes felt that Mauro liked too many people.

"You can't be friends with me, and with that person too," he remembered thinking. But the reason the pews were packed was because of how generous Mauro had been with his acceptance, while still being unshakeable in his own faith. I had not known that about him. Now I do. His life has an impact on mine even after he is gone.

The one last week was for the mother of one of our closest friends. He and his wife were married twelve hours before John and I were, and our daughters have been buddies out of necessity. The girls have been stuck playing for the thirty years their parents have been getting together. Our daughter has roomed with three of theirs.

The funeral was a chance for me to understand his mother. I listened to stories about her long marriage, and their contribution to the communities where they lived. At the reception her sons made me laugh with their playful memories. I felt my heart crack open to a woman that I hardly spoke with.

I heard an older minister tell a story about a funeral he once gave. He was traveling through Canada when he got a scratchy phone call with a poor connection. The person on his circuit asked him to perform a funeral when he got to their town for a man named Bob. At least he thought that was what he heard.

He composed the talk in his head while he was driving across Ontario, and arrived with only minutes to spare before the service. After putting on his robes he reverently walked out to the chancel and opened the Word. When he turned to face the congregation, Bob was sitting in the front row. The priest was rattled, when he suddenly realized he had no idea who this funeral was for. Clearly it was not for Bob. When he had finished the readings he tentatively walked onto the thin ice of honoring this person's life. Was it a woman? Was it a man? Was it a child who died too soon, or a widow of many years eager to rejoin her husband? He had no idea, and resisted the temptation to stop the service and ask for clarification. He was forced to rely on platitudes with neutral pronouns.

"Our dear friend, whom we all love, is now gone. We all miss this person, greatly. Such a person feels irreplaceable. Picture our beloved companion in your mind, and what they mean to you even now." Long pause. More quotes.

Saying good-bye hurts, even if you knew it was coming.

I have one daughter who leaves a lot: for college, for internships in a different state, for jaunts around Europe. She seems reluctant to hug me good-bye. This stings, as I watch her bustle out the door with a suitcase. But when she comes home the hugs are long and cozy.

Death is an abrupt good-bye. Often the "good" part is a misnomer. But the hello that awaits us will eclipse the tears with joy.

Photo by Joy Feerrar

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