Funerals aren't really meant to be joyous occasions, even if you believe in a glorious after-life. And there are those people who request that the funeral be fun, before they pass, so they put together really hilarious photo montages to share with those whom attend the funeral and people tell fun stories (this happened at my cousin's funeral a few years ago)--but while people could laugh and smile, most people were also crying.
Yesterday I spent the morning planting the garden and seeing if any of the seeds I planted way to prematurely for the fucking weird cold snap we had (that last forever) made it through the weird weather (surprisingly yes). While planting the tomato plants and using those
awesome water tube things. While doing so I thought how fitting it was.
The first time I saw those things, over ten years ago, it was at my sister's father-in-law's house. He grew something like 10-15 tomato plants in his garden and he always started them extra early with these things.
He gave tomatoes to neighbors and friends throughout the season. People who lived near him stopped growing their own tomatoes because Ken, my sister's father-in-law, would insist that they take his tomatoes and stop bothering with trying to grow their own.
My sister began to employ that tubing system and shared that it really did help grow those tomatoes. But none every looked as good as Ken's--his garden in general was beautiful. He was retired then, he retired in '92, and spent his retirement tending, lovingly, to his garden and going hunting and fishing. Many times he'd return and we'd get the families together to have a huge bbq of fresh caught salmon, crab and veggies from various gardens.
Ken was a quiet, shy man with a very strong persona, despite the lack of words. Someone who worked hard, had a successful life and shared it with people.
Why was it fitting I was planting tomatoes with the water-tube system? Because yesterday was Ken's funeral. I woke up, went outside (it was gorgeous), planted things, got ready and went into town with my parents and expected to enjoy the funeral to a certain extent.
As I said above, funerals are never fun or happy, no matter what we want them to be. We're there to grieve the loss of someone that we felt a connection with. But Ken passed after a painful battle with cancer. He was 80, and he had a good life. Therefore there's a feeling of peace for funerals such as these.
But. boy oh boy...Ken's youngest daughter is a Reverend, and Ken and his wife were always church going folks and felt strongly about their faith. But I was never under the impression they took it to that level that creationists do, or I would never describe them as evangelical.
Being an atheist, I always feel a little uncomfortable going to church, but never has shied away at funerals. Or weddings. Two reasons: One) you go to celebrate the life the people you're honoring (whether it be in a new life or death) so it doesn't matter how you feel about god or religion. Two) I think that most people of the cloth get this as well. And that there are, hopefully, people attending these ceremonies of all backgrounds and religions and it's somewhat important to respect that.
Of course some religions don't feel this way (mormons) but you're not really allowed to attend if you aren't like minded, anyhow. And there are those religions that have ceremonies they need to stick to (catholics) but we all know how those go, so you get ready for those long marriages and the incense...
So Ken's daughter the Reverend gave an evangelical sermon of a funeral service. It was so very preachy, I almost felt like I was going to burst into flames. It also was too personal. Just as in any family, children have problems with their parents. When the Rev. was going though intense counseling to become a rev. she was told that her father was an unkind and unloving father. I could go on and on about more things that I really feel very differently about. But during the service this theme came up and ended one particular diatribe with a very tearful and forceful, while pointing a finger at us all "I WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW MY FATHER WAS A GOOD MAN!"
We did. That was why we were there. Perhaps you need to tell yourself that, honey. The sermon was a way for her to explain her complex grieving to herself.
That is not how you conduct a funeral service.
Anyhow, it just ruined my day. The only touching part of the very long service (it lasted two hours) was when they asked friends to share memories of Ken--those were the kind, amusing, antidotes shared by close friends of Ken's who golfed with him, fished with him, accepted his tomatoes.
Meanwhile, my tomatoes are doing great. And when we begin harvesting them, I think we'll all think of Ken. Those are the kind of memories you want to have of someone who's passed.
Comments (4)
It's so strange how when people die...things that were never said...start to be vocalized.
Things are also second guessed and there's so much guilt on occasion ...
I have no idea what she was reacting to or why...but you're right what she said was for her own personal solace, and it really shouldn't have been said in the context of the funeral.
I know during my Dad's service, I couldn't stand the pastor (who didn't know my father at all) mispronouncing things and stumbling over the memories we'd wanted him to share...so I got up there and made sure the things I needed to say got said. I certainly didn't point fingers, and I certainly made sure we had a good laugh...but I was thinking the whole time I just should have done the whole thing myself. (control freak!)
OH! And the thing that infuriated me THE MOST about the pastor at my fathers grave side...is we'd asked him to read the Hopi Prayer. (My Dad liked some Native American folklore, and he also had a strange sense of humor...I can't explain it fully just know that the Hopi Prayer was something he liked and we felt it was PERFECT.)
It went like this:
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint in the snow.
I am the sunlight on the ripened grain.
I am the autumn's gentle rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there,
I did not die.
So the Pastor, is supposed to read THAT at the grave side, and he takes the liberty of changing the last part, into something about being with jesus...and I wanted to scream.
Anyway, I love how you'll be honoring the memory of Ken, he would no doubt be pleased to know that's how he'll be remembered.
Sorry for the huge comment! :)
<table class="MsoNormalTable" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" border="0"> <tbody> <tr> <td valign="top" width="580"> The sutras preached before the Lotus Sutra are like the stars, the theoretical teaching of the Lotus Sutra is like the moon, and the “Life Span” chapter is like the sun. When the “Life Span” chapter makes its appearance, then the moon of the theoretical teaching cannot equal it, to say nothing of the stars that are the previous sutras. During the night, the time of the stars and the moon, people do not pursue their occupations. But when dawn comes, they invariably go about their various tasks. Similarly, while the earlier sutras or the theoretical teaching of the Lotus Sutra prevail, it will be difficult for people to free themselves from the sufferings of birth and death. But once the “Life Span” chapter of the essential teaching makes its appearance, then people are certain to free them selves from the sufferings of birth and death.
The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin “Essence of the Medicine King Chapter”, p. 95.Hmm. Ken sounds cool---the tomato story is quite endearing. It's probably a very bad idea for ANYONE to conduct his or her own father's funeral. I mean... give a eulogy, do a reading---fine. Conduct the entire funeral? Too much!
When my friend Susan died, people got up and shared stories. The same was true of my friend Peter's funeral. I think it makes the service SO special.
R
That sounds extremely similar to my friend Sam's funeral. It really sucks to go to an event that is supposed to give you some sense of closure (however small) and walk away feeling enraged. I don't have a problem with people mentioning religion at a funeral (uh, particularly if the person who died was actually religious), but turning a funeral into a sermon is so fucking inappropriate. I'm sorry you had to go through that. You should have the luxury of focusing on coming to terms with someone's death without having to come to terms with their funeral as well.