“Michael O’Sullivan was my great friend… but I don’t ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead.” This scene from the 1998 comedy Waking Ned is one of my favourites. I can’t help but think there’s real truth in the sentiment that the words spoken at a funeral are often spoken too late.
I am driving to the church for a funeral. It is my second funeral in under a month and has given me much to think about. Since I only know the deceased indirectly I have decided to arrive good and early to ensure I am on time and don’t interrupt the cortege. I want to park the car as far away from the church as possible to ensure there is space for the family and friends. I need to get a pew towards the back of the church to ensure there are pews available towards the front.
As I sit and wait I can’t help but notice people I meet on a daily basis; business owners, political figures, friends, colleagues and others. All are here with the intention of joining a grieving family and allowing ourselves to be united in grief as one community.
Mine is a rural community and in moments like this I believe I am privy to witnessing cultural Irish Catholicism at its absolute finest. When you consider how our communities reach out to each other when someone passes away it is quite remarkable.
Humanity
In these days of waking someone we see the true humanity of those around us, we witness numerous acts of kindness and we are given a rare glimpse into the life of the one who has died.
I can’t help but reflect while waiting for the funeral. I think back to the moments spent at family member’s wakes and funerals. As the musician warms up I am transported to those days.
Suddenly I realise just how much I miss those family members, I miss the advice they gave me, how my granda would smile with his eyes and how my aunty would dance and countless other memories. Do I make them proud? Do they see me now and smile?
The church is really starting to fill up now and I look around to see the Stations of the Cross and statues of St Joseph and the Virgin Mary.
Reflection
Mary knew what it was to lose a husband and a son. It feels a bit odd thinking of her in such a way but Our Mother is one who truly knew what it was to grieve. However all of this thinking and reflection inevitably leads me to one final point of consideration: my own mortality.
I believe it is only natural when we are faced with the death of a loved one or a friend that we take stock of the fact that we too will die. Sitting in the church I can’t help but assess the fact that one day I am going to die. For the longest time this has always been a thought which frightens me.
As I experience more and more of this wonderful human experience the less I want it to end. I think of my three nephews; two of whom are nearly five and my godson who is nearly three. I love these three little men with all my heart and were I to die today I may never have told them this. I would never have been able to tell them that so often I have prayed for a miracle and the reality is that they are in fact miracles themselves. They’re absolutely incredible and just so full of joy and goodness.
I think of all the experiences I still want to have, the new people I want to meet and the old friendships I want to continue. There is still music to be listened to and books to read. Perhaps I may marry some day, I may even be a parent some day, I don’t know. The harsh reality of it is that if we permit ourselves to love another then we permit ourselves to be vulnerable. We put our heart on the line and so do they. This is the cost of loving unconditionally. It’s a high price to pay.
Easter is a time which is meant to give us hope. The Resurrection of Jesus is the event which is to give us hope for those who have died and ourselves ultimately.
Death comes to us all. Some are able to meet death as an old friend. Others are taken from us in a fashion that seems cruel and wrong. But it is the absolute finality of it that is perhaps the hardest to take in. Yet through it all, I am still here. So this begs the question: if there is still so much to do what I am doing to make it a reality? Who did I tell today that I love them? Who did I encourage today?
Complicated
I really don’t want this all to end because what is even more complicated is the prospect of what comes after. When my time comes, what will God say to me? Again, I just don’t know.
When my time comes, I pray God will find me ready. I want my family and friends to know that I did my best.
I hope I will have a long time to love other people. I want to be an old man, ambling down the street and still young at heart. Who knows? For now though, God has allowed me to have today. That in itself is enough.
The words spoken at a funeral do not have to be spoken too late for the one who has died. If you love them, tell them.
The coffin enters the church and we stand to pray the deceased on their final journey home.
Someday I hope others will do the same for me… just not for a while yet, please.