There are few things worse than a family funeral. Well, clearly there are lots of things worse . . . vivisection, genocide, sleeping with Donald Rumsfeld, to name but a few.
I suppose the best thing to say is family funerals suck. Big time.
For me, it's less about the deceased - they're beyond mortal concerns, in a better place, blah, blah, blah - it's about seeing people I love in pain. When my grandmother passed away a couple of years ago, it was the only time I can remember seeing my dad lose it. We are not an extremely demonstrative family, so when I say 'lose it,' I'm not talking about gnashing of teeth and rending of garments. He just couldn't speak. And he cried, which I had never seen.
Recently, I went to another funeral and this time it was my mom who was grieving. Seeing her cry feels like being cut by razor blades or splashed with acid. It's so unexpected and alien. Deep down inside, there's a part of me that is still a little kid who thinks his parents are invincible. It's always a shock to be reminded that they aren't.
And of course, there is the ever-present reminder that someday (God willing not for a long, long time), I will be standing by the coffin of someone I love, someone who should have been invincible. And when I think of that, I'm struck with a dread, paralyzing fear. And following right behind that feeling is the greater fear that when I'm the one in the coffin, there will be no one standing next to it, mourning me.
What does "science" mean?
1 hour ago