On Funerals and Death

"How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life, wouldn't you say?"
Captain Kirk

July is a month of endings for me this year – today, or yesterday now, the space shuttle lifted off for the last time. In a little less than a week, Harry Potter will fully come to a close with the release of Deathly Hallows: Part II. This morning, I will lose one of the best friends I have ever had.

Many people have asked me about my strange love for funerals. They think it is unnatural, or weird, or a trait of a dark personality. Needless to say, I think rather differently. I love funerals because they are a gathering to celebrate a life, lived well or poorly, significant or ridiculous. They bring people together. It is not about being selfish, like the dividing of the estate sometimes is, it’s about honoring someone and having compassion for their spirit and for the ones they left behind.

Last summer, I attended a funeral for someone I barely knew and had a marvelous time. She had lived to the great age of ninety-five, and led quite a life. It was a bit sad to say goodbye, but I got to meet relatives that I’d only heard stories about, or never heard of at all. I made a lasting friend. I learned quite a bit more about my family history and its ties to the state of Nebraska. I learned much more about that lady than I had known before, and watched the art form that is a funeral. It was a very fulfilling experience, to say the least.

In a few hours I’ll face a much quieter affair, and one infinitely more personal. I’m already mourning for the one I’ll lose, but I am so glad I got the chance to be with him, and I know that we have had a good life together. Life will go on, but I will honor the dead by remembering. Because remembrance – that’s special. I wish that people were allowed to view their own funerals, because I often find that they are a vindication of everything good about that person, even if it was only a grain of sand in a sea of hurt and despair. Everyone deserves to know that they were special in some way, left some sort of imprint on the world. And then, there’s peace. Regardless of what you believe as far as the afterlife goes, there does seem to be some sort of ultimate peace. Whether it be heaven or just eternal slumber, at some point death must come as a relief from the burdens and pains of this world.

Lately, I’ve been reading a couple of books that deal with the idea of heaven. One was (apparently) a true story, and the other simply an imagining of what it might be like. It gives me hope that the one I lose will end up there and be cared for as he deserves, but more importantly, that he will be peaceful. It gives me hope that death is not all bad, and that one day I might see him again. It’s strange that he leaves me now, right as I’m about to embark on a new chapter of my life, but perhaps he knew that his part was done, that he had taught me all he could. And it’s small comfort to think of him as going to a better place, when I really want him to stay. But watching and waiting for death, like funerals, is not about me. It’s about doing the right thing for once, and giving a proper sendoff. Life marches on, but pausing in the wake of death is so necessary, and so worth it, to give us a further appreciation for our lives.

The funeral episode of Glee – that was beautiful, and a perfect example of why I do, truly, love funerals, and why dealing with death in a graceful way is so important. So here’s to death, the great equalizer. And here’s to life well lived.