food for the duck

[Mercy]

I do not do funerals well. It is not that I fall apart at the sight of a casket or have some aversion to being around death. The pensiveness and austure ceremony always strikes me as preposterous. The mourners walk around awkwardly, barely making eye contact as if they fear some contagion. Children are secreted away to ensure they do not utter some truth of life. The deceased are lavished with more respect then they ever received while sucking oxygen. Old memories are dragged out and polished up and no one seems to mind when the facts do not match the telling of them.

Then there is me, head to toe looking as if I were born in mourning. Other mourners murmur gentle words of condolence and bashfully slink away from my obvious bereavement. No one wants to intrude on someone else's sorrow and I grieve beautifully. The prerequisite tissue is clutched between gloved hands. My face obscured under veiled millnery does not belie the occasional heaving of my shoulders or sporadic, muffled hitches of breath. I appear a tenebrous example of weeping Anglo-Saxon grief. Funerals are solemn affairs and I am surreptitiously laughing to myself.

Funerals give me the giggles. No one is the wiser because they are too busy playing their parts. Amateur summer stock performances for a deceased audience. Everyone mills about quietly as if concerned they may disturb the guest of honor. Mortifying contests of who is more touched by the loss. Shining words of praise showered on a cadaver that was not worthy when it had a pulse. The people amble around like aimless billiard balls to gather in little pockets of awkward comfort before moving on. Eyes are guiltily averted from wailing women. Men clutch each other in embraces less masculine then the tears they are attempting to supress. But my favourite part must be the snarky comments from mourners.

"I can not believe he had the nerve to show up!"

"You know she's only here because she thinks she's in the will."

"They could have picked a nicer funeral home."

So I sit quietly swaddled in my ebony armour, face hidden from prying eyes behind a filmy mask, and chuckle softly to myself. Sometimes the laughter is enough to bring tears to my eyes which only authenticates the moment. Funerals are shows for the living. A chance to make us feel better about missed opportunities and our own mortality. People mistake my heaving frame for someone supressing a crying jag because that is what they want to see. They mistake a show for the dead with respect for the living because that is what they have to see. As for me, I have enough laughter in my life.


Two friends of mine have gone beyond the veil in the past couple of weeks. One succumbed to an over-dose a couple of weeks ago. The other died last night in a car accident. I wrote the above for some of my breathing friends to explain why I skipped the first funeral and will not be attending the second. I guess making you folks read it is my way of mourning. Since I hardly feel compelled to pay my last respects personally, I am not seeking condolences. Hug your parents, call that old friend you still hold a grudge against for stealing your magenta crayon in third grade and tell them all is forgiven, let someone you do not see enough of know that you still think of them. The dead do not care but the living will.


m.

[fatcatfan]

I'm sorry you've lost some friends. Not that you wanted that. My grandfather passed away about a month ago. I didn't get particularly emotional about it, a few tears shed in privacy which endly shortly as I began to recall our happy times together.

I can say that in any social situation, there are always the fake, the pretenders, but some people do experience true grief. Few people know how to handle it, and that leads to the awkward behavior you describe. I do agree we should take advantage of *now* to enjoy our relationship with the living... and often the people who are experiencing true grief are the ones who didn't.

[Ich]

Holy crap. Mercy, you've hit the nail on the head. I've had feelings like that before, but you articulated them better than I ever could have.

I think a funeral does do one thing though: it gives a sense of finality to it all. Even if it's phony, it's still the end.

[Eckels]

When my grandfather died, he had been very sick for a long time. He wasn't in the hospital, he stayed at home, but he had been having a lot of trouble with diabetes and cancer, and was losing a lot of weight very quickly. Everyone knew he was going to go soon, but no one was sure exactly when. Chemotherapy treatments were certainly taking their toll on him.

At the wake, and the funeral, my grandmother didnt break a tear. Nor did most of the family. Don't misunderstand, we were all sad to see him go, but we knew it was coming for a long time. We were all ready for it, and had been dealing with it for a while. We loved him as much as a family could love their father, and he had lived a very good and fulfilling life. He died peacefully in his sleep, and all was well.

At the funeral home I was absolutely sickened, to hear some of the comments made by people who... for lack of a better term... just weren't there every day. People who assume that because you aren't weeping uncontrollably, that you don't love the deceased... that you dont miss the deceased. That you're there... as you said... "for the will".

I dont think he ever knew it, but my grandfather was the single most inspirational person to me that i've ever known. He was my role model. But I didnt cry at the funeral. Admittedly, I'm having trouble keeping myself composed as I type this... But I didn't cry at the funeral. I don't think that makes me a bad person.

But some of the things I heard whispered in the shadows were enough to make my stomach turn. It makes you feel like the deceased has died twice.

[moocow]

Mercy, I moderately understand where you're coming from, as I hate funerals as well, but I always wind up getting suckered into going to them... *hug* I'm deeply sorry about your friends.

[ShadowTiger]

Mercy, that was the most beautiful and inspirational thing I've ever read.

I do not mourn the deceased. They have gone on to a better place. If they haven't, it's their own fault. These rituals everyone experiences are self-induced based on the expectations of others, whereas they themselves are probably mourning only because either they truly miss the person, or must appear to be in a state of sincere mourning, lest they be judged by the other insincere mourners. It's what I've always experienced. Let the dead rest. They've worked hard all their life, and if there are people at the funeral at all, they care enough for the deceased. Let them rest. Just let them rest.

After enough people in your life die, you become numb to death. It's just another part of life. The last part, in fact. And in my opinion, the best part. (Because you get to see what comes next. ;) )