Cry! please

I got a call this morning that one of my husband's dear aunts has passed away.  Immediately we got online and started looking at flights 'home' and working out the schedule.  It also got me to thinking about funerals.  Funerals are such an odd mixture of happy and sad.  Sadly, it seems to be the best way to pull together family who are far apart, which is happy because you get to reconnect with loved ones you wouldn't otherwise see.  It's an odd cycle.

In the spirit of that oddness I'm looking forward to this funeral.  Partly for seeing family gathered but also because I suspect this funeral will be done well.  You probably think that's a strange thing to think, after all a funeral is a funeral.  But over the past few years I have learned something about funerals.  My favorite funeral ever was several years ago for my husband's grandmother.  Instead of a long, dry sermon given by a pastor that only the deceased knew, the family shared.  They shared a wonderful, personal, heartfelt memorial of a beautiful, godly lady.  They sang songs that really meant something to them as a family. And we cried.  Afterward, listening to eleven siblings as they as sat around the kitchen table in the old farmhouse they  grew up in telling stories of their mom... happy and sad stories, laughter and tears.  It was so healthy!

A couple of years ago I attended another funeral, also for a wonderful, godly woman, but it was the strangest, most surreal few hours I've ever spent... at least at a funeral.  It was impersonal.  A pastor gave as boring, dull sermon as I have ever heard.  (I know, some of you are saying 'is there any other kind'? and others are thinking that's not possible, depends on your experience.  Trust me, this was dull.)  One lady who appeared to have only met the deceased briefly spent most of the service reading a list of missionary names, many of which she couldn't pronounce, who we were then supposed to pray for.  I'm all for praying for missionaries, but this was just a list of names, poorly pronounced.  The whole service was weird.  It wasn't until the last few words were said next to the grave that it dawned on me what was happening here.  One of the nameless pastors read 'one more verse that *the deceased* wanted read'...  and I realized, she had written a script for her funeral.

I've heard many people say over the years 'Don't cry for me at my funeral.'  And I'm sure that is what this lady was thinking.  There's no reason to shed tears for her, she's in a better place.  But tears shed at a funeral aren't for the deceased, they are for the living.  Sharing memories, laughter AND tears is a part of the grieving process.  In writing out her funeral service in an impersonal, dull and very boring way she did prevent tears.  There wasn't a wet eye in the place.  Afterwards we went to a cold, ugly, impersonal fellowship hall with the family to have dinner.  We chatted about small talk, but no one talked about her.  No one shared memories.  No one laughed.  No one cried.  It was so unhealthy!

At my funeral please, feel free to cry! laugh! Tell funny stories, silly stories, make fun of me, I don't care.  I won't be there.  And I'm not coming back, so say whatever you need to.  A funeral is for those still stuck on this earth.  Say your peace in whatever way you need to... and move on.

The funeral we will be heading to this week will be for one of those eleven siblings.  Brings tears to my eyes just to think of losing such a beautiful life.  I don't think I ever saw her without a smile.  But I am looking forward to the funeral because I know it will be a celebration.

And it will be okay to cry.