I was standing in a slow-moving line. I really needed to get somewhere to finish an errand, two places, in fact. The interminable wait had me focusing on not looking at my watch, for fear of what I’d see.
No, I was not out Black Friday shopping. I was in a location that would rank right around that horrid day for places I’d rather never be, though. However, it was a good thing the line was long. I was at a wake.
Like all of you, I find no pleasure in attending wakes and funerals. These are sad occasions. It means that we have lost a light that was important. Based on the number of people who were at this wake, even before the stated starting time, the light lost meant much to a plethora of people.
I really had to get to those other errands, but it wouldn’t be earth-shattering if I wasn’t able to that day. That’s the thing about death: it’s never convenient. It doesn’t occur at a time when your schedule is clear and you have more free time than you know what to do with.
But we find a way. It is important to go to wakes and funerals. It is important, not just to share your support with the family who has lost a loved one, but for yourself as well. We always worry about the grieving of the close relatives, but there are also so many other people who were part of the circle surrounding the deceased, and sometimes their grief needs tending just as much.
One of our previous superintendents helped change our funeral leave at school. It used to be fairly restrictive, limited only to certain family members. However, he opened it up to anybody who needed to find that time to grieve. His claim was that you might be very close to your best friend’s parents. Wouldn’t that be important to be there for them? You might actually be closer to those parents than you are to a blood relation for whom you had been allowed to take leave.
When people die, there seems to be a little more latitude these days than there used to be. It seemed like a funeral always used to be three days after someone died. That was just the way it was done. Now, things are sometimes put off for a time, depending on people traveling from distant locations or other circumstances for which three days would not be convenient.
I recall when one of my grandpas died. The wake was set for the night of the sheep show at our county fair. We were in a panic as kids — what would we do? But then Grandma told us it was important for us to go show our sheep; Grandpa would have wanted that. Some of our 4-H friends helped us, since Dad couldn’t be there. But those were the days when there didn’t seem to be much flexibility in scheduling. It wasn’t convenient for any of us, but we made it work.
The older we get, the more wakes and funerals we seem to have. That seems only natural. But of late, I seem to know too many people who are young and passing away, people who are taken from us suddenly. I seem to know too many people suffering from potentially fatal illnesses, folks who can’t possibly have lived long enough. Death isn’t convenient for any of them either.
My 8th-graders read the play version of The Diary of Anne Frank every year. We talk about death and how it wasn’t very convenient for those hiding from the Nazis during World War II, or for those suffering in concentration camps. Anne wrote often about wanting to be back outside and back to her regular life. She missed her friends, some of whom had already been killed. Anne was an eternally optimistic young lady, but I can imagine that, as her life neared an end, as she lay on a bunk suffering through illness, she wished for more time, for more opportunities.
I stood in that line, watching it wind slowly forward. When I reached the family, we visited for a short time. These are the rare moments I’m at a loss for words. I’ve been to way too many remembrances for my students, former students, and close relatives of students over the years. It’s always been difficult, whether I had a close relationship with that student or not. No teacher should ever outlive a student, just like parents feel about their children. But it seems inevitable that this happens. Life isn’t fair; death even less so.
As I walked out of the funeral home, I thought about how I hoped it would be a while before I had to attend another one. That wish didn’t come true. We can all hope that, but we don’t have much control. We will continue to join those lines of people, whether it’s convenient or not. And we can hope that, when our time comes, others will find a way to grieve and support our families as well.
I realize this was not the most upbeat column, but I do want to take a moment to wish all my readers a very merry Christmas and a safe and meaningful holiday season! Best wishes for the new year!
Word of the Week: This week’s word is demur, which means to hesitate or delay, as in, “The mourner had to demur before meeting with the family at the wake, trying to control emotions.” Impress your friends and confuse your enemies!