I cry at funerals. There, I said it. It doesn't even have to be the funeral of anyone that I'm close to. I'll just cry like I knew the person my entire life. I'm a bawler, what what!! I guess it means I'm sensitive or whatever (ew gross). That can be good, in moderation. "Shove it down, Charlie. Control yourself." So don't invite me to your funeral, unless you want me to cry all over you. Or do invite me. I don't care. It's your funeral.
I've been to too many funerals. It wasn't something that my parents ever shielded me from. It's like "Someone died, the funeral is Wednesday, and you're going." I had no time to say "No." I'm so used to going to funerals now that whenever I hear I'm going to one, the first thing that I instinctively ask is "Lox or corned beef?"
But it's more than that. Funerals can really put things into perspective. You hear all of these stories you've never heard, you meet people who were very special at one time or another to the deceased, and you reflect on your own life in a way that means something. We take life for granted, so it's always good to stop and take stock of what you've got. And by take stock, I mean try the chicken soup that the deceased family has generously made.
I went to a funeral/memorial service this weekend. It was the right blend of spiritual and religious. There was one psalm, and it wasn't the one you're thinking of. The rest of it was poems and heartfelt stories. They were really nice. It was like a poetry slam without the snapping. And we planted a tree next to the ashes of the deceased. That's the right way to do it, I feel.
Sorry this post wasn't "funny." (But, let's be honest, have any been?) I'm just feeling spiritual and doing some thinking. I'll snap out of it. But this is where my head is right now. Well, my head is right here, on my body, but you know what I mean. I guess I just have to go live in the woods for a week. Alright, if you need me, I'll be in the forest, by which I mean hugging one of the few trees that I can find in Brooklyn. Does anybody know if trees grow here?
*walks outside, passes a bodega, sees a small, saggy tree, and hugs it*