Funerales

Last week, The Girl's Grandfather passed away. We had gone to visit him twice since we have been together, and I was always amazed at the amount of knowledge and wisdom stored in him still at his age (94). The man had been in Europe during World War II, and he was a 60-year member of the VFW. Place on top of that the fact that he was married 50+ years, and his life reads like a novel.

The viewing was strange to me in a way because it was more of a wake. People were talking to each other, often joking, remembering "Pap" and all the funny stories related to him. There was also a lot of respect. It was strange to me, I guess, because the funeral of my two Granfathers were very somber.

My Maternal Grandfather's funeral is kind of a blur to me. I only remember being outside, playing with my cousins before my Mom brought me inside to his body one last time before he was buried. My Paternal Grandfather was a whole other thing. He passed away when I was a teenager. I remember that viewing and ensuing funeral being very somber.

The women at that funeral were all sitting in the front rows at the funeral home, reciting the rosary over and over and over again. The men were outside, talking in low tones, drinking what I'm sure were alcoholic drinks mixed in with coffee and traditional Mexican drinks. Then we walked behind the hearse to the town church where a Catholic Mass was celebrated. Half of the town, or more, came to his funeral... there were a lot of people there.

But the funeral last week was different. It was also a Catholic family, but they didn't grieve too much until the actual time to say good-bye. While "Chuck's" body was there, he seemed mostly alive in their thoughts. I'll never forget The Girl's Brother misinterpreting the phrase, "Cloud up and rain knuckles on you." He thought it was "Clown up". Also, while there was food at an Aunt's house, it wasn't the centerpiece that food is when someone in Mexico dies. There is even a saying, "Las penas con pan son buenas."

The sorrows with bread are good.

I don't know when (and if?) I'll die. I told The Girl not to have my body there in a coffin at the funeral home. I told her to donate my body to science, have them take out my brain and learn from (quite literally) what I have learned. Donate my organs, if they are still in good shape, to those who need them. Finally, place a big picture of my DNA sequence for people to remember me by. I don't want to be remembered by how I look to the rest of the world... I'd rather be remembered by the code God wrote to run this machine.

Yes, some sort of religious service would be nice, but mostly for the comfort and reassurance of those who would miss me. I'm very sure of where my soul is going and, by the time I'm dead, it's a little too late to be asking that my soul live eternal. (That's why I've taken steps now.) Mostly, I just want my death to be a reason for people to celebrate that I was around for N many years.