25
Mar

So, I just went to a funeral...

autumn trio

I just got back from a funeral. At my age funerals are to be expected, but he was four years younger than me and a lot fitter, so I was not expecting to attend this one.

I went to a funeral and had some beers, because he was the kind of person who would appreciate you sticking around, meeting the other survivors and having a few beers. Thoughts occur.

There is a process of loss that you have to grow up enough to handle and which is so very much a part of growing up that it almost defines it. As you get older, the world that you considered fixed and entirely yours either ceases to exist (where the hell did the technology of my childhood disappear to?) or becomes the property of interlopers. That last part is crucial. There is a scene at the end of the Brat-pack film "Saint Elmo's Fire" where the teenage protagonists go back to the student bar where they used to hang out and find younger versions of themselves sitting at their table. They understand that this is no longer their space and move on. That happens to me all the time and it will happen to all of you

and that is fine.

The first reaction is negative, because those toys were mine, that space was mine. My children were born there and I grew up on that street. I pretty much invented being here and doing that. We come to believe that we own things by simply having made use of them, having celebrated crucial moments of our lives there. We expect that bond to last forever, but of course it does not. The young, foreign and different will inherit everything that you currently think uniquely yours, change it in ways you cannot envisage and become, as you once were, trapped in believing it theirs alone.

The world will roll on and you will not persist,

and that is fine.

At the funeral were hordes of people that cared about the person I knew as a colleague. He was gone and all that remained were his children and photographs

and that is still fine.

So we should, as always, seize the day for we will not persist and very little that we know or believe to be ours will remain. That is our nature and understanding that is what makes you a grown-up.

Comments

  1. Anoniempie says:

    I'm sorry for your loss and think that you've described your feelings marvelously. You should really write a book.

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