Between You and Me: Thoughts during a funeral of a good friend
By Leah S. Dunaief
Tuesday we went to the funeral of another longtime friend. The chapel was overflowing with well wishers and mourners, and he deserved nothing less. He was a good man in every sense of the word: a good husband, a good father, a good grandfather, an inquisitive and caring person and a fun companion. He was a highly ethical man, never speaking against anyone who was not a government official, and it seems he enjoyed his life.
He will be deeply missed.
Funny how life has a stark clarity during a funeral that then fades away when we are dealing with the chores of daily living. As the eulogies were read by his family, some stories making us laugh, others making us tear, we could see the tapestry of his life unfold. As we listened, we could not help but think of the unfinished paths of our own lives. How precious is each day with our loved ones, for they give the deepest meaning to our existence. What a miracle life is, and not to be wasted on some petty grievance or unnecessary anger. In fact, not to be wasted at all but to be lived to the fullest, with purpose and kindness: to be enjoyed even as we try to make our small world better regularly by doing the laundry.
Some day, each of us in that crowded room will die. What will be said of us, what amusing stories will be told, what terrible flaws did we have? How did we spend our so short lives on earth?
A poem was read at the funeral that spoke to this message, and as it was being read, almost every mourner’s head nodded in agreement. I share it with you here. It was called, “Dash,” by Linda Ellis.
I read of a man who stood to speak at a funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning…to the end.
He noted that first came the date of birth and spoke of the following date with tears but said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.
For that dash represents all the time they spent alive on earth and now only those who loved them know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own, the cars…the house…the cash. What matters is how we lived and loved and how we spend our dash.
So, think about this long and hard; are there things you’d like to change? For you never know how much time is left that still can be rearranged.
To be less quick to anger and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile…
Remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.
So when your eulogy is being read, with your life’s actions to rehash, would you be proud of the things they say about how you lived your dash?
As I sat listening to the eulogies, I recalled that I first learned of death shortly after I learned to read. I loved reading fairy tales, about princes and princesses and dragons and castles, and one of the stories ended with the death of a hero. I remember rushing into the kitchen in great distress and asking my mother and father, who, poor souls, were just eating what they expected to be a peaceful dinner, if there was such a thing as death? Further to the point, would they die? And why? They tried to calm me down, telling me soothing words, but clearly it was such an anguishing moment that I recall it to this day.
I’m supposed to be grown up now, and I accept the loss of loved ones with a broken heart. While death is a mystery, life remains a miracle.
