Yesterday I attended a funeral, my dear friends grandfather passed. I grew up with her, as children I would see her grandfather visit or hear all about the fun things she did while visiting her grandparents.
I had my own grandparents that kept the family together and worked so hard to make a fantastic future for the family. We were both so proud of our Italian grandparents and would often compare notes of how family events went down and what funny things took place at the events.
As I sat in the church, I realised it was one of the few funerals I’ve attended in my time where I wasn’t the one in the front rows mourning the loss of a loved one. I don’t want to say it.. But it’s bitter sweet.
Attending a funeral is still sad, but I don’t get to sit in rows behind the family and attend very often. I avoid funerals.
Attending isn’t easy either, watching my friend and her family in such pain of having to farewell a loved one, seeing them slowly realise that life will never be the same, watching them work hard to give him the best send off they could possibly give him under such pain.
Yesterday I cried ALOT! There was a lot of snot and tears.
Tears of sadness for the family and my friend, tears of memories of the loved ones I still miss so badly, tears for the funerals to come – tears of fear of the unknown.
The eulogy was well put together and I learnt a lot about the man I knew so little about. He was a hardworking man with an enormous amount of love for his family. He sacrificed a lot and worked very hard to provide them all with the memories they will forever cherish.
I know when I lost my grandmother recently, it’s like a huge piece of who I was suddenly ripped out of me, for some time I walked around trying to find myself again after the huge chunk of my childhood went numb in my heart. It took a while to feel like me again. I thought I was ok, but yesterday yanked that scar open again and there were tissues and tears everywhere.
As the slide show played with all the pictures of this amazing man and his family, and the music of the prayer in the background….I watched his widow crying. I realised how my grandmother must have felt when she farewelled my grandfather many many years ago. Watching your life with this person all summed up in a slide show of pictures, knowing that the world as you know it doesn’t fit the same puzzle anymore, pieces were gone that you can’t put back.
I remember at my grandmothers funeral, I kept looking at the casket, it was the closest I was going to be near her for along time.
I then realised, even though I avoid photos so much as I always look red and videos because I don’t like my voice…. When we are gone, that’s all the loved ones left behind have.
I hate funerals because just when you think life makes sense, someone else’s number gets called and the world tips upside down all over again, until a new normal is created.
As I heard the eulogy, I began thinking… What would be said of me when I am no longer here? It makes you reflect on things and re-order priorities again.
At the end of it all…. I want to be happy. I want to take my last breath smiling, knowing I said what need to be said and did what I felt needed to be done.
Life is too short, and that’s why I hate funerals…. It reminds you that NOONE gets out of here alive.
Get out there and live.