Another Funeral

Another funeral today. For a member of our Dementia support group (the caregiver, not the spouse). 
This man had several siblings, seven kids, 20 grandchildren and 16 great-grandchildren, none of whom I knew. But having such a large family seemed to me a kind of legacy I'll never have. That made me sadder for myself than for him.

The music was lovely -- gorgeous soprano pianist/singer. The priest was Asian, and his voice was soft and difficult to comprehend -- of course it could be my hearing is going downhill -- but I didn't feel he had anything uplifting to say outside of the Catholic ritual itself. I guess what I like to hear at such services is more about the person himself. Perhaps that was done at the rosary last night, I don't know. My faith in an afterlife is pretty dim, and I believe memories are the main way we live on. I need to get out there and make more memories!

Last week's funeral/memorial service, for the mom of one of my fellow teachers, was held in a Quaker Meeting House. We sang music the woman loved, and her family and friends shared memories of her. There was lots of potluck food afterwards. I felt flashbacks of when my mom died, 15 years ago now. This woman was the same age as my mom would have been, yet she had 15 more years of life and love. I wish she and my kids and I could have had that time.

A few months ago there was another funeral. This one was for the husband of one of the caregivers support group members. It was held at the Santa Clara Mission Church where Greg and I were married, and the reception was in the Faculty Club, where our reception was. It felt like a big spiral was whirling through my life. The widow has already found a new male friend, which seems to me to be an act of amazing courage and optimism. I can't imagine it. I can't even imagine wanting to.