Back from the memorial. The church was filled, FILLED & I was amazed as I don’t even know that many people, yet imagine that I could fill even half a church.
It was a full Catholic service, non of which I knew the secret words & signs, and I unconsciously swore, out loud, yet quietly when the priest called the congregation for the eucharist.
I was under-dressed, as I apparently own nothing appropriate for a funeral, though this was a memorial of life, and there were others amongst the black attire with splashes of color, including a bright bow-tie by a gentleman speaker who said J. would have approved. He was a lover of life, after all. Relief. At the calling hour this morning, I decided it was more important to show up than not, even forgoing the dress code.
Many wonderful things were said of this man and I teared up when his granddaughters stoically gave remembrances. (I am my mother’s daughter; we are real weepers). I barely knew this man–an engineer, a pilot, a husband, an adventurer, a softball coach–whose house I have walked by & shared small salutations for 13 years. I am truly awed by his life, his family, his happy marriage of 53 YEARS. How does a mate go on after such a life? What do you do in a big empty house where once was constant chatter?
I must remember to not only wave, but perhaps, stop in now and then, bring more bread, be bold enough to ask how she is doing, when there is no good answer.