As we age we experience many transitions. Family and friends pass away and we grieve. The older we get the more we lose, especially if we are fortunate enough to have a lot of family and friends. At some point long ago I came to grips with human mortality and accepted our brief stay on the earth. I also know that even the earth will not live forever and one day our sun will die and that will be the end of our beautiful blue marble.
It’s easier to accept these passings if we understand it’s all about beginnings and endings and we all end---one way or the other. It’s how we get to the end that’s important. Between the beginning and ending we should strive to live well and do our best in all that we do. When tough times come along we must fight through them. When good times come along we should bask in our good fortune. But when we lose people we love or even people of celebrity status that we admire (and our pets), mourning is the way we move on and we must not cheat ourselves of a proper period of sadness. That’s how we heal.
This past couple of weeks my family lost a dear member of the clan. My aunt passed away 10 days shy of her 90th birthday. She simply passed in her sleep. Many of us in the family have lived around the world and didn’t always keep in touch and didn’t see each other as often as we would have liked but that’s part of the human experience. We like to roam around. And while roaming we build our own core families and keep on moving and building and living. As we go about our lives we keep in touch via family members and friends and remain connected even if we don’t see each other very often.
At her service the other day we met up with my aunt’s side of the family (she married my mom’s brother). I recognized them instantly and felt that old familiar kinship that families share regardless of the passage of time. It was tremendously special to see all of these people and I have to say I was a little overwhelmed with emotion throughout the day. That night it was hard to fall asleep.
When I was growing up as an “only” child, my aunt and uncle were very important to me. My uncle played with me and introduced me to music and TV. He had stereos and TVs long before anyone else I knew had them and if he were alive today he would be a technology geek and possibly even the developer of something amazing. Probably something to do with music. He had an enormous music collection. My aunt talked to me as though I had a brain and even trained me to work in her office while she was on vacation once. I felt so grown up and I knew her trust was high so I made sure I did everything perfectly. She left meticulous notes on my duties and I passed with flying colors. They never had children so perhaps that’s why they connected with me.
My family has always been small and scattered but I can’t get over the tight connection and bond I feel for them when we meet. I live on the west coast and my dad’s family lives on the east coast and we have only been together a handful of times but it doesn’t matter. I adore them too and feel the connection when we talk on the phone or exchange emails.
It’s easier to accept loss of a loved one if they have reached a ripe old age. I knew my aunt had a good life, a life not without strife but full of ups and downs like all of us. She was strong and tough perhaps because both my aunt and uncle were Marines in WWII. At the cemetery my aunt was given a lovely and simple presentation by a small color guard of young Marines. Her sister was presented with the American flag that had been draped over my aunt’s casket and off in the distance one of the young men played a beautiful rendition of “Taps.” When they completed their presentation they silently moved away from the family and friends gathered for their final good-byes. It was a tremendous honor bestowed on her by the young Marines and something I will never forget.
Funeral services have evolved. Many are memorial gatherings and some even rise to the level of a party. A place where family and friends gather to visit and talk about adventures and to say good-bye. My aunt’s funeral was more traditional with a simple Catholic service in the funeral home followed by a short drive to the cemetery and a brief graveside service by the priest and Marines. It was light and not gloomy and was filled with happiness about where she had been, and in the Catholic tradition, where she was going. Later the family met for lunch and visiting and catching up. It was tremendously special.
Almost 90 with a funeral service performed by a gentle, soft-voiced priest who prayed for her soul (and ours) and expressed words of kindness throughout the day to ease the family into moving on, then a moving Marine Corps tribute. She would have loved that and I’m at peace until the next passing. That’s how it is.
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