Reflections on a Funeral

This weekend I attended a funeral for the husband of my friend. I had only met the husband once or twice in passing, but I had heard so much about him from my friend, who called him her soulmate. After we processed to his gravesite, we stood in a large cluster around his headstone, his family and close friends shared memories about his generosity of spirit, his particular imperfections told with loving humor, and his warmth of heart. Even though I had barely known this man, I felt like I did know him through the stories hold by his loved ones. I was touched to tears.

Attending the funeral reminded me how every day is a gift. Sometimes a gift brings a gem of a poem, a story, a novel, a picture, a movie, something that shook you to your bones, in a good way. Sometimes a gift brings shared laughter with a loved one who gets you and accepts you for who you are. Sometimes a gift brings a terrible shock that changes how you see the world and how you see yourself. Sometimes a gift brings a sad soggy sock that could potentially give you freedom from the invisible chains that bind you to seeing too many trees and not enough forest. Sometimes the gift brings darkness, a weight smothering your heart, your throat, your psyche, so much so you cannot fight, so much so you cannot flee, and all you can do is curl into a ball and hope the darkness will pass sooner than later. Because it does pass, eventually. Sometimes the gift is time to rest and reflect, to revive the spirit, to recover your passion so you can contribute to your community, so you can give back.

Because I could not
stop for Death, its reminder
tells me: Give, love, laugh.