Your Funeral

I wish I’d known you better. I wish I had spent more minutes in your presence. I wish we had swapped more details about our journeys. I wish you had expressed more sentiments about our different generations. I wish you were here, but I know that you are. I know because I feel comfortable here at your funeral. I feel accepted, despite knowing you just well enough to cross the line that separates “yes, I will pay my respects in person” and simply stating “oh, that’s too bad, he was a good man” and carrying on.

I did step. I did cross. I am here, propped up formal on this hard slab of wood, polished skillfully yet splintered, faded, decayed, permanently misshapen by countless others who collectively pressed their weight down prior. Fidgeting. Visiting. Singing. Clinging. Wondering. Pondering. Searching. Fearing. Regressing. Repressing. Contemplating only God knows what. Regrets? Sins? Expectations? Trust? Dedication? Decay? Purpose? Time?

Yes, time. Always time. Sitting here among your wife now alone, your children now without father, your friends now one less, all so vocal in loss, so demonstrative in expressing joy for a life well lived, I’m contemplating time. What is it? What has it brought? What will it bring? What will it allow?

I’m not afraid. I’m not confused. I’m not lonely or without hope. I’m not drifting. I’m not defeated. I’m not drained. No, you’re lifting me. You’re signaling me. You’re showing the way. You’re teaching. You’re gifting answers. You’re amazing in death. You’re all-knowing. Completely logical. Your freedom is liberating. The tales, the jokes, the tears in your honor are beacons. Steps. Pathways. Roads. You’re a pioneer.

I'm motivated. You've fueled my internal fire. Set me straight. Pointed the way. Provided dimension. Shape, form, and function. You've held up the mirror. Forced examination. Forced conclusions. Forced intentions. You should know I’m thankful in your death. You should know you’re teaching still. You should know I’m still benefiting from your wisdom. You should know I’m still learning about you. You should know we're still spending time. You should know I had no choice but to cross that line.