I forced myself to go to the funeral home yesterday. Not too many people I know relish going to funeral homes and I was not really that close to the deceased. He was a comparatively young man, only 48 and he lived by himself and was very much a loner. I really knew nothing about him except to say hello to him on the street which I not done for over a year as I simply had not seen him. Yet we had spent a bit of time together as we dealt with a common disease. Since I had not even seen him for that 12 months we could not be called friends. He never called me and I never called him, I didn’t know if he even had a phone so I advised him on nothing and he advised me on nothing.
My first thought was just to go to the viewing. He had a bit of family there; turns out he had a sister and brother who were local and a sister who lived in New Brunswick. He was also an uncle. I was one of a very few people that were there and a quickly navigated the reception line. I really had nothing to say to them other than a mumbled condolence but they smiled and offered their thanks.
There was a slide show video set up in a corner. These days some funerals have video montages of hundreds of slides and carefully orchestrated music. Here there were only about 20 pictures. Him dancing his mom. Him as a young man. Him wading in the Atlantic. Him pretending he was a pilot. Simple, back to basics pictures; no pretentions, no false posing, some goofy, all loving.
I decided to stay for the service. While I was waiting for the service to start I was sort of lounging with some other people in the area of the cremation urn. Suddenly a little white dog came careening out of nowhere and ran from mourner to mourner. It took a while to corral the critter but no one seemed at all offended. The dog was just wanting to spread a little joy in the hearts of those of us there, he certainly meant no harm and certainly did not suffer from false pretence. I smiled and looked at the urn and thought how an urn can contain the ashes but not the spirit.
The service was short. There were only 50 of us there. The minister gave all the usual readings and the reasons for hope. I learned that this gentle giant loved gardens and even kept a balcony garden. I learned that he loved animals and that the request had been made to make donations to the local animal shelter in his memory. I kept thinking of the little white dog and how death cannot keep the spirit down.
I have often thought that I don’t want to be in heaven with most of the people that say they are going to heaven. But if this man goes, I want to join him. The splash he made on the world was small. He consumed hardly any of the economic pie. He like did not know what the latest shoe style was and he did worry about matching shirts and ties because he did not own a tie. He did not die in the arms of his beloved: He died on the floor by himself. But the joyous little dog knew the truth. The man who died was my friend and I did not even know it. He had the wealth of spirit. He was not drunk with consumption. He gave far more than he had. If indeed by some angelic mix up in the paper work I at least get to see the gates of heaven, I know that there will be at least one person that I knew on this earth in the upper echelons of the afterlife. I have been blessed knowing him here.