By SUE SEIBERT
Wikipedia tells us, “A funeral is a ceremony for celebrating, respecting, sanctifying or remembering the life of a person who has died.”
When we attend a funeral, we usually do it because we cared for the person who died and we want to join with others who also cared for that person so that we can celebrate his or her life and console each other that, for a little while, we will not see that person.
As I told you last week, my precious uncle, widower of my father’s youngest sister, died, and we – Carolyn, Christi, Joey, Raf and I – attended his funeral out in West Texas.
In a much earlier column I told you, upon his turning 90, what a blessing he had been to me and to all of his family. That was so very true.
In my opinion funerals are a time of mourning and rejoicing. Mourning for the loss of someone so dear who we will miss in this life but rejoicing that he or she is no longer in pain and has gone ahead of us to be with Jesus and with other family members already there. I felt my uncle joined his parents, my parents and my aunt in celebration!
Funerals are a time of reflection about the person who has died. They are filled with tears and laughter, as those who are left behind remember their loved one. And while a funeral should be a Christian service, in my opinion, it should also be solely about the person who is gone – about his life and about all those times when he touched other lives.
No so, this funeral. It was all about the new and recent widow, the second wife, the woman who stood there when we entered, happily reviling in the joy she appeared to be having. Before the funeral she spoke to everyone about herself and how much fun she was having, about how she had worked in a funeral home and therefore knew everything about everything. She, not the funeral director, lined all the supposed family up to march us into the church, with her family, not his, following her and his son into the chapel.