Last Wednesday, I attended the funeral service of my uncle, who passed away only a few days before after succumbing to cancer. Ok, for those you might be sticklers for technicalities, he is technically my 1st Cousin once removed (see this Wikipedia article for an explanation), but as families go his family was very close to my mother's from her earliest memories, and my brothers and I have always considered him to be an uncle. I was quite sad to hear he had an inoperable condition, and saddened even more to hear how quickly the cancer moved in to rob him of is vitality. I was glad to hear that my uncle had put up a good fight, and with the greatest of care, love and support from those closest to him, he managed to live much longer than doctors would have given him credit for.
While I am saddened at the thought of the pain his wife and children will be feeling as a result of his passing, I cannot help but feel glad for him that there is now an end to his pain, and that after living the life of good and decent human being, that he had a chance to make his goodbyes and to pass on to whatever may come next.
Through this event, I am reminded that I know a number of people with illnesses that are considered either terminal or life threatening. I worry for them all, because I don't wish for any of them to suffer any pain or hardship, nor do I wish their families to be worn down with grief as they watch their loved ones deteriorate before their eyes. I am proud of one very good friend in particular, who lifted herself out of her despair to get on with living her life in spite of her cancer. I remember telling her once that she was stronger than she thought she was, and I am so very proud of her for living up to that and focusing her energies on all of the positive things in her life, and finding joy in her relationships with her children and her fiance. I do wish however she'd phone every once and a while, instead of always enjoying herself without me! :-P
I'll admit that as such things go, the Catholic service feels a little... dreary. My dad said something similar in not so many words. He told me he wants a big party with lots of music when he goes. That's kind of a funny statement to make though, as when you're gone it's not like you'll have a chance to care whether people are dancing or moping. Still, I kind of agree with his sentiment that it would be nice to know that you won't be mourned, but instead that your life will be celebrated loudly and with joy. Yet even though I found the repetitive chanting of the Rosary a little strange, I can kind of understand the reason why it is used. It seems as if it provides a means for people to enter a state of calm, and to meditate on something. I'm not sure how many of the people gathered were actually meditating rather than simply chanting, and yet even just the simple act of chanting the same thing over and over can only encourage a person to enter a state of relative calm, particularly if the exercise is something that is familiar.
I've always tried to explain to my kids that death is nothing to fear as it is very much a part of life, and that it is a natural thing that brings the story of a person's life to it's conclusion, allowing room for others to add their own life stories to the history of the world. So while I was sitting and listening to the service for my uncle, I heard a baby fussing, and later saw the baby as it's mother went forward for communion. It was one of those things that occurred that actually brought a measure of joy on the day, and I truly hope others there felt the same way that I do. There we were at a service to celebrate the life of one person at his end, and at the same time we were there with another person who's life has only just begun. Symbolically, I couldn't help but feel that it brought beautiful and poetic symmetry to the proceedings.
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