Funerals

Today I went to a funeral. I'm one of those odd ducks that likes funerals. For me it makes it all very real: life, and death.

I heard once that until you face death as a reality--that it really really will happen-- you don't know how to live.
I tried it, and "they" were right. It put into focus for me those things that matter, and those things that really don't.
It is a focus that quickly and easily blurs or fades. We need funerals and weekly sermons to help us get our focus back.

At every funeral a picture is painted of the life of the deceased.
I often wonder if that person could come back and give a rebuttal, what things they would correct, or add, or what emphasis they would change. Unless we write our own eulogy, we don't get to do that.

Most people don't know our inner thoughts, our dreams, our hopes, our wishes. They don't know what we wanted to do but didn't, or what we wished our life could have been. The only thing we leave for people to talk about is what we actually did. I'd rather be known for my good intentions, but that isn't what obituaries are made of.

I sometimes wonder what people will say about me at my funeral. But I don't worry about it.
It seems that no matter how mean you were, or how much of a bum you were, they always find something nice to say.
I heard a guy at his grandmother's funeral pray, God, you'll have your hands full with her. Wasn't that a nice way of saying it?


It's trite but true, most of us don't get out of here alive.

And we really truly don't take much with us.

We won't need a swimming suit or sunscreen for this journey.

I hope we pack what matters.