This past
Monday, my family buried my mom. It was
tough, hard, and sad. All of it, but
even those words don’t come close to explaining what I felt, what I feel. And I have to admit, I’m not sure how I feel
even now as I sit down and write this.
The service was
beautiful, meaningful, and moving. Those
who were able had a part in it and I think mom liked it. Mom had requested that the four boys sing
together on “How Great Thou Art” so my brother, Jack, asked us to be at the
church early to practice with the church musical director. It was the first time in a long time we sang
together and it was a special moment for me.
I had the
feeling, honestly, that when we had practiced, Mom was there in the first row
smiling and nodding her head like she would.
She loved music. All kinds. And, she loved her family and especially
liked it when we all got together.
I think the best
part of the day was the visitation where family and friends gathered to tell
stories, reminisce, and kid one another.
We did the same at the luncheon. There
was a lot of laughter. A lot of
laughter. Got to see a few family
members I hadn’t seen or talk to in a long, long time. That happens in families, both big and small. Too often, I think.
And just as we
did at my nephew’s funeral in October, we promised to get together more often, to
keep in touch, to talk or write more often. Difficult to do with busy lives, our own
lives, the lives of our own kids and grandkids.
Difficult to do as we work at our jobs, as we take care of our business.
A day becomes
two days. Two days become a week, then a
month, then a year. Even more years.
Funny thing
about families.
There is an
unspoken bond, a love, that unites and surpasses time and distance. Though members of a family might not see one
another as often as they want, as often as they would like, there is a
closeness of mind and heart and soul, of blood, that unites and binds and ties. Always.
Forever. Our family is no
different.
Each time we get
together, even after a lengthy time away, we fall into the same comfortable
rhythm, the same comfortable groove that we’ve lived in and grown up in. As we gather together, we tell the same
stories and jokes that were told at each gathering, have been told and retold,
and we pass them on to our kids. The
young ones gather around to listen and laugh and soak it all in and eventually,
they’ll pass them onto their kids. It
becomes a cycle. It becomes a story of
life. A story of a family.
And just as we
did at my nephew’s funeral in October, we gathered together in honor of our Mom
to share, to take part, to listen and to laugh.
And, to weep and to mourn and to console.
We gathered
together for an Ending. To celebrate a long, long life of 99
years.
And just as
there is with any Ending, there is also a Beginning. Always Beginnings.
You see, I
believe that life never truly ends. Life
is always about birth, always about newness.
Life isn’t about death, because the spirit lives on. While there is an Ending, there is and always
will be Beginnings.
We might have
laid my Mom in the ground next to my Father, but my Mom is not there just as I
believe my Dad isn’t there. His body like
her body might be, but his Life, like her Life, and his Spirit, like her Spirit
live on in each of us. And because the
Spirit lives on, it is a celebration of Life.
It is not an Ending, but a Beginning.
It isn’t and never will be about death, but about life. It’s all about life. It always has been. It always will be. Always.
Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life,
and Make A Difference!
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Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe