Life seems to have a definite rhythm. It is cyclical; it is repetitive. Events, both large and small, are experienced again and again, but each time with renewed circumstances and perspective.
Sunday afternoon we attended a baby shower for Husband's cousin and his girlfriend who will welcome a little girl in three months. Last night we attended a wake for my grandmother's sister's husband, affectionately known as "Uncle Jack," a man who was rarely seen without a beaming smile.
Perhaps surprisingly, both events were joyous celebrations of life. I always enter funeral parlors expecting shadows and hushed voices, but am instead greeted over and over with boisterous conversations and laughter and joy, remembering the life being commemorated, not the death.
The circle of life continues. Enter singing cartoon animals.
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3 comments:
Hakuna...matata....hakuna....matata!
I agree that funerals should be a celebration of the life instead of the mourning of it (could have been worded better but oh well).
Most of the funerals I have been to have involved a lot of crying, sobbing, and sadness all around. While some try to celebrate the one that left our serengeti to holla at Jebus for a second, the sadness by everyone else completely overshadowed it. Must be a cultural thing since most of the funerals I have been to are for people that speak my forgotten native language.
Luckily, I haven't had to attend many funerals. I was too young to remember my paternal grandfather's and only remember small bits of my paternal grandmother's. I understand funerals, and I guess I understand the concept of wakes also, but wakes just freak me out.I realize they are for the attendees to help with separation of their loved one, but I shudder to think that when I die I'll be on display like a cake in a bakery window...
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