Always Go to the Funeral (Hillsboro version)

Uncle Rand died alone on New Year's Eve of an unforeseen heart attack. When Dave called to tell me, my reaction was a bewildered and disbelieving, "What?!" His dad was only 62, and, according to regular checkups, had no indication of heart problems. "I'm coming to the funeral," I told Dave, without hesitation.

The title of this post is from this article and this writeup (thanks CB and LB). Below are some other things I learned from attending the funeral.

At the viewing, I felt a tangible solidarity with extended family. Even literally: Carl rubbed my belly. These extended family members are a part of me. Sharing our common loss finds us bound tighter together.

The speakers at the funeral told stories and characterized Rand in ways that were both entertaining and enlightening. The stories revealed how ignorant I was to the extent of Rand's goodness. As with all funerals, I left wishing I'd known him better. Though I liked Rand, I had held part of him in reserve because of un-pretty things that I'd heard. But at a funeral, those quirks are seen through an optimistic lens. What was once aggravating is now endearing - or even appreciated. How would that be if I could keep that perspective with all my relationships? If I could put aside judgment and really love others; keeping in mind that I don't know the back story and my judgments are inaccurate anyway? (This sentiment seems vaguely deja vu-ish. Would I could retain the call to change!).

Uncle Rand's sudden and early death also increased appreciation for the relationships I have now - both the ones that come easily and the ones that require effort lest they perish from neglect. I want to do better at discovering and basking in the uniqueness of the people around me.

To that end, I reveled in the days following the funeral doing the simple things: working on a puzzle with grandma and two uncles, to the background accompaniment of an energetic discussion between two aunts; visiting with my in-laws as they played with Sydney; "hanging" with my dad, swapping stories, sharing perspectives, and visiting some of his favorite discount stores; reconnecting with a life-long friend.

It was a valuable few days. Always go to the funeral.