The almost 800 mile total ride, and the tension in between, damned near got me down. Either one would have done me in almost, but combine the ride with the sadness and damned if it wasn't almost more than I could take.
But Kenneth had a wonderful funeral, if indeed such can be said about any service designed to pack one away for eternity. His grandchildren eulogized him in brief remembrances of their "Poppa" and his daughter, Kimberly, did him proud with her remembrances of her dad.
It's great to be a good man that such kind things can be said about without lying. I've heard eulogies when I know the speaker had to expect God to reach down and strike them dead at any instant for telling such tales. But with Kenneth, the good things said were true. He was one of the most decent people I have ever know.
My sister had said that earlier she had thought she wanted me to give a eulogy, but through prayer determined that I probably could not do it. She was right, as I told her. I get far too emotional at such times. The only person I could eulogize would be one I didn't know or love or have an emotional attachment to. What would be the purpose of that?
We had the food after the funeral, as I predicted. Tons of it. Of course I ate too much, just as Ed and I had taken advantage of the free hot breakfast offered at Comfort Inn that morning. I sure as hell didn't won't anything to eat when I got home a little after 10 last night.
I met a lot of their friends yesterday and all them were nice. Not phony nice as people sometimes are at such times. But really nice.
I can read people better than that, I know who's being sincere and who is blowing smoke up my ass. Part of that is natural talent and part of that comes from being a longtime journalist. And no small measure comes from having blown a little smoke myself in times past.
Things will get back to normal as things always do, even after the worst intrusions into our peace of mind. Life is damned good at throwing us curve balls we can't hit. You can't win 'em all.
But Kenneth had a wonderful funeral, if indeed such can be said about any service designed to pack one away for eternity. His grandchildren eulogized him in brief remembrances of their "Poppa" and his daughter, Kimberly, did him proud with her remembrances of her dad.
It's great to be a good man that such kind things can be said about without lying. I've heard eulogies when I know the speaker had to expect God to reach down and strike them dead at any instant for telling such tales. But with Kenneth, the good things said were true. He was one of the most decent people I have ever know.
My sister had said that earlier she had thought she wanted me to give a eulogy, but through prayer determined that I probably could not do it. She was right, as I told her. I get far too emotional at such times. The only person I could eulogize would be one I didn't know or love or have an emotional attachment to. What would be the purpose of that?
We had the food after the funeral, as I predicted. Tons of it. Of course I ate too much, just as Ed and I had taken advantage of the free hot breakfast offered at Comfort Inn that morning. I sure as hell didn't won't anything to eat when I got home a little after 10 last night.
I met a lot of their friends yesterday and all them were nice. Not phony nice as people sometimes are at such times. But really nice.
I can read people better than that, I know who's being sincere and who is blowing smoke up my ass. Part of that is natural talent and part of that comes from being a longtime journalist. And no small measure comes from having blown a little smoke myself in times past.
Things will get back to normal as things always do, even after the worst intrusions into our peace of mind. Life is damned good at throwing us curve balls we can't hit. You can't win 'em all.
3 comments:
I know. At my mother's burial some made speeches. I put up a good front, but inside was wreckage. Same thing with my sister who died last year. Some looked at me like I should say something. I could not.
I gave the eulogy at my dad's funeral. Not an easy thing to do, to pare down a man's life into one little speech. Even with a lifetime of training in minimalism, I found it an impossible task, and my eulogy for him sucked.
But what can you do? Nobody else would have done better. There were only 9 of us there. A paltry number for a man who really did a lot of good in his life, whatever his faults.
Of course, no matter how hard a funeral is, it's always worse a couple of days after, when the rush of the event is over and there's nothing left but the reality of the loss.
I'd give your sister a call in a few days, Jazz. After you think everyone else has stopped calling...
--Jim V
Yeah, I'm no good with that talking in front of crowds to begin with and especially not at a time like that.
We stay in touch a lot anyway. Heck, my sister called me today to see if I was OK. But I'll be calling her quite a bit in the coming weeks.
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