The first funeral I remember was for my Grandpa Joe. He was a bridge builder for the county and a farmer of sorts. He had about 10 cows and all of them had names even though he eventually ate most of them. We got to stay with him and Nanny every year on our birthday and we spent most holidays with them. After my grandma died, they put him in a nursing home which he kept escaping from until he eventually passed away.
They let me recite a poem I wrote for him at the funeral. It was in a gymnasium because he was well loved by his community. He coached baseball and talked to everyone he saw no matter where he was. I miss both of my grandpas for different reasons.
I started attending funerals a lot more when I started doing them. My first funeral was actually a high school kid that was killed in a tragic auto accident. I didn’t even know his parents, but when I reached out to him they asked me to do the funeral. Guess what? It was also in a gymnasium because of the circumstances of his death.
When I do a funeral, I tell the people “This is not ABOUT you; it is about the person we are honoring.” But I also tell them “This is not FOR them; it is for you!” This is because of what I have slowly been learning, we can’t heal things until we feel them. The beatitudes stress that when we mourn, we will find comfort.
I never understood the celebration type of funeral. It always seemed like we were bypassing the pain we felt from losing a friend. Until we feel the weight of the loss, it’s hard to find consolation. The grief we are supposed to experience keeps resurfacing until we allow ourselves the opportunity to feel what is natural.
I also don’t understand the narrative to, “Be strong!” This also seems like avoiding what we naturally feel. I remember viewing the body of the young man in my first funeral. It surprised me when I cried over this boy that I didn’t even know. Why did I do that? Because it is the natural thing to do. And because I felt it, I was comforted and able to console the family.
Being OF God means we feel what we feel and allow ourselves to truly heal. The comfort won’t come from avoiding the pain, and it also will not be when we deny what we feel. I found comfort outside of organized religion because, for the first time I wasn’t being told what I should feel. Instead I went inside and asked what I really felt. It was painful – I mourned – and then, I was comforted.
Be where you are, Be who you are,
Karl Forehand
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