My Musings

Funerals

I hate funerals. They are mind-numbingly depressing.

I'd an uncle who passed away awhile back; at the time of his passing, he had cancer in every organ except his lungs. Many in the family think his lungs stayed clear because he was on bottled oxygen. He'd worked with power saws of various types over the years and didn't have all his fingers. None of this kept him from being one of the happiest people I've ever met, always laughing and joking.

When his funeral happened, I was mad because it was depressing. I couldn't understand why people were being so glum. He'd gone to Heaven and didn't have cancer anymore, he didn't have to carry an oxygen cylinder with him everywhere, and he even had his fingers back. It seemed more like a time to be happy for him than to be sad, and the funeral failed to deliver.

My dad passed away on December 23, 2015. I wasn't sad because I knew where he'd gone. My family is Christian, so I know my dad is in Heaven, and I'll see him again. It isn't a loss, only a temporary parting. That being said, surrounded by all those crying, weeping people, it was difficult to maintain my composure. It reminded me of what Jayne said in the movie Serenity, "She is seriously starting to undermine my calm!" Emotions are infectious, and sadness is particularly virulent. Despite not being sad myself, I couldn't keep from crying at the funeral.

In the weeks that followed, many people wanted to offer their sympathy and a shoulder to cry on. I couldn't stand it. I wasn't sad; I didn't need to cry, and I wanted these people to go away and stop trying to force depression onto me. I got into several disagreements with them because they thought it was part of the "healing process" to cry, and they thought my mother and I needed to let it out.

My mom constantly had to remind me to be polite; they were doing this because they cared, and it was the only way they knew to try and help, even if it didn't actually help at all.

It was at the recent funeral of a co-worker that I had an epiphany. The service was depressing, of course, talking about suffering, death, etc. If you weren't depressed before the service, you would be when you got out. It suddenly made me wonder if the people behind funeral services were of the same mindset as those who think people need to cry. Perhaps the entire service was designed to be intentionally depressing in order to accomplish this.

I think there should be three great celebrations in a person's life.

1) When they're born because another life has been sent into this world and there is the potential for them to do some good here.

2) When they become a Christian because they've taken the first step toward an eternal future in Heaven with the possibility of taking others along with them.

3) When they pass on from this life into the limitless splendor of Heaven. They've finished their work here, and like any job, they clocked out and went home. No more stress, medical problems, or hassles of any kind will bother them ever again, and they have achieved the goal they've been striving for since they gave their life to God.

These should be joyous times, not ones filled with sadness and tears. We shall see them again someday, as long as we stick with God until our work here is finished. It is not a time to mourn. It is a time to celebrate, for tomorrow we all may die!

Oh, how I hate funerals. I don't think I'll even show up to my own.