Respects

Recently I attended a viewing at the local funeral home. The deceased had been a neighbor of mine, and while I wouldn't say we were good friends, we definitely knew each other. We would talk when we were outside, and although she was old, she could be pretty interesting. In the winter we used to shovel her walk and driveway whenever the snow came. For that we were routinely rewarded with various baked goods, which were always great. But she had been in a nursing home for the better part of a year, and so I hadn’t seen her. Still when word came of her death, it of course saddened me. And I thought I should go to the funeral home just to pay my respects to the family.

When we arrived at the funeral home, there were, of course, family members there. I didn't really know any of them, but I did see one person that I slightly knew. He waved at me, and I didn't find out till later that he was a grandson. But as we moved to where the woman was lying, there was nobody at the casket. We walked up to it, and mumbled a few things to each other about the woman. We looked at the pictures, admired the flowers, signed the guest book, gave a memorial, and walked out.

Yet nobody came up to talk to us. Nobody asked us who we were. Nobody said “It’s nice of you to be here, how did you know my mother?” Nobody talked to us at all. This woman was a mother and a grandmother, and I know they loved and cared for her, and I’m not trying to imply anything different. But I know that when my parents died, a lot of people that I didn't know said some very nice things about them. I wanted to hear that, and those people wanted to say it. Yet, this time, that didn't happen. I wanted to tell them about the snow and the baked goods, I wanted to tell them about the redbud tree she gave us. I wanted to tell them some nice things about their mother. Because I knew they would want to hear it. But I didn't say it, and they didn't hear it. Still, I'm sure there were plenty of others who did.

I know after long hours at a funeral home, sometimes people can slip in and out, and I completely understand that. And I'm not suggesting the family did anything wrong. But I couldn't help projecting forward to my funeral. While it’s not necessary that my loved ones stand by my casket with a constant flow of tears, I hope that at least someone is there to greet anyone who happens to stop by. Because those people will, (hopefully) want to say some nice things about me.

And (hopefully) my loved ones will want to hear it.