By Susan Govern
When I wrote my first “Train of Thoughts” I stated there have been writers who have made me think, laugh and cry. So with that in mind, I am taking my turn with a more serious topic.
The first funeral I ever saw was for President Kennedy. I was four and watching it with my parents on television like millions of others. Being that young, I didn’t know or understand about death and funerals, but a few years later I experienced one in a more personal way when my paternal grandpa passed away. It seems in the years since I have been to more funerals (for family and friends) than I want to count and three times I have witnessed the passing of a loved one.
Now some people cannot deal with death and funerals. Even a few jokingly say they hate funerals so much they don’t plan to be at their own. I was like that, but for me it wasn’t the sadness attached to the event that kept me away, it was a child’s viewpoint of the whole thing being scary. Even when my paternal grandpa died, I was left in the care of my other grandparents while my mom and dad attended the funeral.
Finally in my teens, and a few other funerals later, I was told I needed to go to my uncle’s calling hours and funeral. “It’s to support those left behind…it’s for the living…that we go” someone explained to me. So I put on a brave face and went. It was an eye-opening experience. Yes I saw my first deceased person, but it was more than that. I saw people laughing. I saw people smile through their tears. I saw a celebration of a life.
Why am I writing about all this now; why decide to write about funerals? Because today I attended yet another funeral for a wonderful woman who was loved by many – and I do mean many. She was a mother of nine, grandmother of 30 and great-grandmother of 13. She was a friend – she was family even though it wasn’t by “blood”. And her calling hours last night and funeral today were a celebration of a life well-lived.
Last month I was at the funeral for a friend who was a priest. I can only hope to have such a joyful send-off someday. For him, there was standing room only in the church. Laughter could be heard as people came in and shared stories with each other about how they knew Father Dan. When his mass began, and the first hymn started – the sound of the choir and congregation together made me think the Angels were singing with us. As his friend and then his brother shared their stories of him…laughter and love filled the church.
Years ago, a week before my 18th birthday, my maternal grandpa died. As it often is between a grandparent and a grandchild, I felt I had lost my best friend. From the time we got word he had passed – I seemed to be living in a black and white world. It was spring-like on the day of his funeral, but I didn’t really notice. Then I experienced what I can only say was a miracle – a message meant just for me straight from Heaven.
While sitting in church and listening to the scripture being read (or maybe it was during the Homily and scripture was quoted) – a certain phrase got through to me. It was literally like my brain had been struck by lightning.
All my senses seemed hyper-aware. Colors around me were brighter, I felt a breeze come through the open window that seemed like a gentle touch against my face, I heard birds singing in the trees just outside the church more clearly than I had ever heard before or since when we attended mass there.
The most amazing thing was the clarity of the words I heard. It was as if I didn’t just understand with my head, but with my heart. For a brief moment it was like God had let me see what the truest meaning of that scripture passage was – I understood God’s own true meaning; a real revelation.
It all lasted only about a minute; then the unique understanding of the scripture was gone and my human brain was back to normal in how I processed my thoughts. I knew a special connection had been made to something way beyond human understanding even if it was only to offer me a momentary glance to something beyond just words. In that moment I had been given assurance my grandpa was at peace.
I still am not crazy about calling hours (or wakes as they are called by some) and funerals. I get nervous about having to go and I share in the sadness of the family in missing their loved one, but I find myself looking around and listening more carefully at these events since my maternal grandpa’s funeral. I listen for the laughter; I look for the smiles; I celebrate the life lived because I know – I really know – that we have a beautiful someplace else to be when we have “shuffled off this mortal coil”. (Shakespeare – Hamlet)
