Today I attended a funeral. I can’t say that I enjoy funerals, frankly I don’t know anyone who truly does – given the subject matter is deeply saddening. I have been to funerals in the past and it is that subject that is the topic of discussion here. My own mother passed away in 2001 – having lived just long enough to witness the terrible act of the Two Towers falling in New York. Prior to her passing she gave to me a bit of advice that has to do with the subject of death, both I hold dear to this day:

1. Funerals are for the living. They are an opportunity for those left behind to get together to pay respect to the deceased as well as pull together to mourn. As mom put it, the deceased are already gone – and thus those in attendance to such a gathering are the ones that need it.
2. “Do not have a wake, a funeral or anything else even slightly depressing in my honor. When I go, and you feel the need to think of me, or talk about me in anyway, I want you to discuss happy things. Something I did that made you smile, or happy – not something sad. If you get together and have a sad event for me I shall haunt you – so throw a party! Talk about your crazy mom with jovial stories – raise a toast to me – but do not sit around and be sad – it will do you no good.”

In short, she was right. The funeral thing, like the one I attended today, is actually missed by most who attend one.  Many people go to a funeral for the person who died, not for themselves. This is tragic. Again, the deceased is gone and with any luck they made peace with you before they left. The reason that you are there is for you and those also in attendance. The most important thing at a funeral is the part that most people dismiss – I even discussed this with the Pastor today: There is a part where the Pastor, or whomever is presiding over the event, asks those in attendance if anyone would like to come forward and discuss the deceased. At the funeral today one person did – one person out of all of those there – I was not that person either. I don’t say this to chastise those in attendance today, only to illuminate with example.

Why is that important to note? Tragically in the USA, for some reason, we have managed as a society to stifle our sadness, our emotions and in most cases our sharing of those things that we all have in common. I know that there were many in attendance just today who were not only sad but also felt that they were made a better person by the deceased. The catch is only one person felt compelled to say as much. Why? Long ago a man died, Bob, whom I looked at much like a second father to me. He was a saint. I truly loved the man for who he was. He was my friend’s father and just an incredible guy. I was given the opportunity then to speak at his funeral, to say one last bit of dialogue, maybe he’d hear it – who knows really. I passed on the opportunity because, to be frank, it just felt weird – standing there in front of a couple hundred people bearing my soul regarding the man I cared for as a father. Think about that – why is that so wrong? What is wrong with us? I will always regret not having said what I felt – and no, it wasn’t for Bob, it was for me. I loved him. Everyone there loved him. The primary thing about Bob that hadn’t been said, and needed to be said, was simply this: Bob was a cool guy – and it remained unsaid.

Today I was at Helen’s funeral – she lived to 92. Helen was breathtaking. I mean that. There are few people in my life that I have met that actually amazed me – that I was in awe of – Helen was one. Helen was a great mother, not only to her own children, but to so many others that she didn’t owe anything to – she just cared for them. She loved them, and showed love for them as any amazing mother would for her children. Helen was also an incredible wife. She and her husband spent a long happy life together – in fact they set an example to so many others on how two people might do just that.

To me Helen was more than that. I was not related to her in any way. I would love to say that we were friends, but the truth is we barely knew each other – we attended the same family events, sure, ones where she was a borderline institution – the woman was famous for her cooking skills and sitting idly by watching her family enjoy her labors. I would watch Helen, I would say hello to her, I would occasionally kiss her head as if I was kissing my own grandmother’s head. I can honestly say I loved Helen as well – why? She was not my mother, nor my grandmother, and we were not old friends – but what she was, and always will be, is far more than that – an Inspiration.

We all need inspiration in our lives, and sadly, often times it is difficult to find. 92 year old Helen was just that, an Inspiration. She never once accepted the societal norm that some people do: old people are to be shelved until they pass on. It is sick – and Helen never once acted like she even knew that people did that. No, Helen lived her life the way people should – she sucked the marrow out of the bones of life to the end. At 92 years old she went bowling several times a week. 92 year olds aren’t supposed to go bowling are they? No they are supposed to just sit in chairs and nap right? Not according to Helen – no, she lived every day like it might be her last and still wanted to get in a little bit before it ended – even the day before she passed she was out doing errands and visiting people. Now that is living.

So to Helen, if I had a glass I would raise it, an Inspiration for us all. A woman who showed us how life should be lived – to its fullest. I am a better man having known you. God speed.