Things that preoccupy me

In attendance at my brother's funeral yesterday, held in a Greek Orthodox church, my mind still, yet the situation demanded inactivity. I looked around at the relatives I could see without attracting attention. I examined the icons, the look and feel of the church that had not changed throughout my lifetime. The priest went around shaking his incense holder making it difficult for me to breathe. Old reactions of repulsion at being expected to kiss the icons (pictures of the Madonna, or whomever, that everyone else was walking by and kissing which I could not bring myself to do), returned. I wondered how the really high candles were lit. I wondered if there were people whose livelihoods depending on new churches being built, so they could make the intricate stations for the priest and cantor. Four hours of a wake, the day before, had almost done me in. A repeat of much of the same service was an exercise in tedium to me. It lasted an hour, as I thought, "If there is a Heaven, hasn't he already gone there?"

Seven years ago, when my husband was dying, he asked to be cremated and I readily complied. No chanting, no promises of eternal life, no accusations of the sins which he apparently was expected to have committed in life to be washed away by death, no trying to picture him as 'asleep', not dead.

Next came a long parade of cars (many of them lost when the hearse buzzed away with no awareness of people missing the turn because he had already made it before they could see him. Those lucky enough to know where the meal was to be served met at the restaurant. The rest were hopelessly lost and out of touch. The graveside service, equally repetitious was slightly less tedious in the shortened version. The honor guard was nice, and taps played by a bugler on a natural rise behind us, was somehow oddly comforting and more closure to me than any of the religious services had been.

A traditional fish dinner was served to the 30 or more people who made it to the restaurant. My brother's widow held up beautifully, chatting warmly to all the people there (many of them who don't speak to one another from past injuries experienced). Awareness of the hostilities which arise from divorces, child support and other family issues, was not visible as the grandchildren talked to one another, seemingly oblivious to the tensions raging in the adults around them.

Faults of the deceased are forgotten and the idealization that seems required at these occasions sets in. Brother, you pass on your role as patriarch of the extended family. Life was long and death didn't take you by surprise. You will be missed by many people and in different ways by everyone. You take much family history with you. Rest in peace, my brother.