Funeral After-thoughts

Attended a funeral today of a 30 year old man...4 years younger than me. Tragic and sudden death that left behind a wife and 2 daughters. It was a weird but convicting experience for me. The little, white church was filled to capacity with an emotional thickness in the room. No one plans for this kind of farewell. And many showed up to convey their love and support of the family.

During the service, there were hymns sung and scriptures read. The pastor shared some biblical truths and reminders about resurrection and hope. Typical funeral stuff...except for one man that spoke...Brian.

Brian was a close friend of the young man that died. He essentially gave the "sermon" today. What he shared was real, it was honest. He spoke about his relationship and shared some fun memories. But, at the end, he talked about grieving and hope being in partnership. He talked about providing "space" to grieve in moving forward. It did not provide clean-cut answers with formulas and solutions. It left much mystery. The way he communicated invited you in...to participate and struggle. It was unusually biblical and Jesus-like. Almost story-like...parable-like.

To the point that it has me blogging about it late tonight when I could be doing other things. I'm still having funeral after-thoughts.

And here is where I'm really hit with the events of today. Who and what would be shared at my funeral...if it would have happened today? Now, I know that is kind of a morbid thought...or is it? I'm not referring to some "Stephen Covey" exercise where you "begin with the end in mind" and plan your own funeral.
No, I'm referring to who really knows me.
Who would stand and express the truths of my life?
What would be said?
I'm not talking about when I'm 78 and dying. I'm talking about right now.
Am I living my life in such a way, day to day, that life would be communicated in death?

I do have a love-hate relationship with funerals. I hate to see people hurt and grieve. I hate to see flimsy proclamation from funeral pulpits. I hate to see doors of grieving closed in order to highlight hope. Aren't the doorways to hope and grief on the same hinge? I hate to see funerals and processions rushed so that we can "get back to our lives". I hate caskets. I hate death.

But I love the honesty and necessity of wrestling with life when viewing death. Funerals make me think. They force me to see the brevity of life. They compel me to hold my kids a little closer tonight...and put off that "have-to" project for another tomorrow. They invite me to participate in community not just give it lip-service. Funerals help me to see that the means and the end are inseparable. Good endings happen...when the means are fought for.

So, today has really settled me and unsettled me...and I am thankful for both.