The first funeral I attended was for my great grandmother on my mother's side. In those days they dropped the casket into the ground while the crowd watched. I suppose that's okay unless you happen to have a wailer in the family like we did for "Abuelita" meaning little grandmother. My great aunt howled like no other while the casket descended before our teary eyes. The memory of that first funeral haunted me for most of my childhood. My perspective about funerals has changed since that first episode.
Funerals are meant to celebrate a life well-lived. It's a time to comfort the families who are dealing with loss. It's also a time to reflect on the work we need to do before we are laid to rest. For believers, it's a time to dwell on what Jesus did for us when he died on the cross breaking the chokehold that death once had on all of us. Death is no longer the final chapter. I imagine all the people who have passed ascending on an escalator to heaven, their bodies now free of their earthly ailments. I see my abuelita dancing with angels while trumpets blast giving glory to God. The heavenly stands are filling up. These folks are cheering for us to complete our mission so we can reunite when it's our turn to get called up. Wheels up. It's time to celebrate two lives in the state where I grew up. I'll see you soon, mom. Have a great day.
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