Funerals

Funerals

            I attended a funeral yesterday.  I didn’t even know the deceased or his family.  I went because George was a 13 year old classmate of my middle daughter and she wanted to go. I went to support her.

            George choked to death at a family dinner last weekend. When EMS arrived he was already in cardiac arrest, and despite their best and most heroic efforts he died. Thirteen is too young to die.

            This was my daughter’s and most of her classmate’s first time facing their own mortality. It stared at them through the closed eyes of their friend from his open casket. It stared at them through the sheer pain, grief and disbelief of his parents, younger brother and large extended family. She told me later that while she and her friends were saying good bye, his father came into the little anteroom, went up to the casket and started talking to the boy, petting his head and trying to coax him to come and play baseball. This hit them all very hard.

            On the way to the cemetery, she asked me if I had gone in to see George. I told her no, not only did I not know him I had seen that the family was in there most of the time and wanted to give them their privacy. She accepted that and started talking about the funeral procession with the police escorts. She talks when she is nervous or scared.

            One of the things that struck me most was the family. I think any and all parents can feel and share the pain and anguish that George’s parents were feeling. Just the dead disbelief and weariness in their eyes said it all. The whole family is from the somewhere in the Middle East, I’m not sure where though. Part of the service was in Arabic and when everyone arrived at the cemetery, about 10 or 15 of the men started to sing (for the lack of a better description) an Arabic dirge. Even though I couldn’t understand what they were saying, I was very moved and haunted by it. They did the same when the coffin was being lowered. The other thing that moved me was in the way his family and friends greeted each other. It didn’t matter man or woman, they would hug and kiss each other on both cheeks. It showed a sense of joy and love at seeing each other again no matter what the circumstance.

            I think the thing that hit the kids the hardest of all, was the lowering of the casket into the ground after seeing him in it just an hour before. I think that is what made it real for them. My daughter was very quiet on the way home and the rest of the afternoon.

            I know that in a day or two or three, they will all be feeling invincible again.

That's a good thing about being 13.