Whenever
possible, I make it a point to avoid funerals. I don't find much
comfort in the tried and true rituals, the music makes me emotional,
and I hate crowds, even when filled with familiar faces. Life
everlasting sounds good coming from a priest - and this priest had
actually known AJ and his family for years - but the non-believer in
me still isn't convinced about paradise, no matter how glowing it's
made to sound. God is one thing, the soul is another, but
the
concepts of either eternal damnation in a fiery pit or never ending
walks with harp playing angels on streets of gold.........it just
seems too manmade to be real.
You
can't live 80 years in a small town and not leave your mark and while
the church wasn't standing room only, it was so close that several
rows of extra chairs had been set up inside the sanctuary and several
more outside in the vestibule. Father Lacaze delivered an eloquent
if slightly downhome-ish eulogy, communion was held, the Ave Maria
was sung and a multitude of prayers were offered. It was, so
everyone seemed to agree, a lovely service about family and music and
all roads leading to God. I had slipped in a few minutes late and
when it was over, the priests and the family filed out slowly and
solemnly, and I slipped out. Eternal life or not, it was enough
sadness for one day.
Words,
even about the certainty of heaven, even from a priest, are still
just words. They echo in the sanctuary, they make promises, they're
meant to comfort and ease the loss of those left behind. They're
gospel truth for the faithful and much as I want to believe, the
cynic in me is still a hold-out. Call it what you will, but I'd
rather have the man and the music here on earth.
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