The Last Six Funerals

Our church has buried six members since November. We eulogized one brother between Christmas and New Year’s and another on January 4th.  Few things look more out of season than a funeral home tent in a December cemetery. Except for maybe devoting the first blog post of a new year to the topic of death. You’d think this would be a good time to write about how to make and keep resolutions, how to break bad habits and instill good ones. And it is. But as the wise man said, It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of everyone; the living should take this to heart (Ecclesiastes 7:2).

Here are some things I’m taking to heart from the last six funerals.

Meaning is Measured in Pain

This time last year, the Tennessee River, less than a mile from our house as the crow flies, flooded. The pasture that backs up to our property looked like a lake. This year, due to the drought, the river kept to its banks, but I have still seen a flood – of tears. A teenaged boy weeping at his grandmother’s wake. It was his first time to encounter death up close, but he knew what to do. A man of letters and wit dumbfounded at the death of his wife. The anguished parents of a son who fought a long, hard battle with substance abuse and finally won, but not before it took his life.

Cicero said, “The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.” It is a noble thing to be the keepers of such a sacred trust. But greathearted obligations like this cost us and the price is paid in grief. The more we love, the greater the cost. But it is worth every tear because if it hurts this much, it must have been precious.

Honoring the Dead is an Undertaking

Most agree the visitation is the hardest part. The family dutifully stands post next to the deceased, shaking hands, now straining to remember the name that goes with the face before them, now falling into the embrace of a friend they haven’t seen in ages. They receive the respect we come to pay for a good two hours, a hard two hours, until the undertaker tells those still in line that it is time for the service to begin.

The family retreats to an anteroom where the preacher leads a prayer. Then they shuffle in to the chapel and take their seats near the front while we stand with our heads down, staring at our shoes, wondering if we should take them off because this family’s grief is holy ground. Songs are sung. The Word is spoken. The eulogist tells the family the stories they already know but never tire of hearing. Sometimes there is even laughter. Prayers are prayed.

The casket is loaded into the hearse, the family climbs into a car and police officers on motorcycles leapfrog one another racing ahead to the next intersection to stop traffic so that the procession to the cemetery can wend its way unimpeded. In smaller towns, folks are more likely to pull over to the side of the road while this parade of grief passes, but you see that kind of respect in big cities, too, sometimes.

Finally, the pallbearers place the casket over the grave and awkwardly step aside. A scripture is read. Another prayer is prayed. And we all stand there for a moment with our regrets or gratitude or both. Folks from the church are waiting for the family back at the fellowship hall. They have fried some chicken and baked a ham and whipped up a half dozen desserts because now, the grieving can finally eat. Nothing reaffirms life and laughs at death like a good Christian casserole. Amen.

There Will Be at Least One More Funeral

After speaking with the widow at our most recent service, one of our older members approached me and said, “This has to stop.” She was referring to the blitzkrieg of bereavement our church is experiencing. It’s not that she expected the preacher to do something about it. Or that she is easily discouraged. She is not. She is feisty and possessed of such a positive disposition that, rumor has it, she can charge dead batteries with just a touch. Like the rest of us, she is simply mortified at the amount of mortification occurring around us.

I did not say this to her, but it will not stop. There will be more funerals and some, perhaps, right soon. Unless you’ve been living as a hermit for the last decade, and maybe even then, someone you know and love will finish the race before the year runs out. That makes now a good time to make peace if it has been broken. Or a good time to renew it if it hasn’t.

But one day, you and I will attend our last funeral. You, your own, and me, mine. Savor the beautiful moments. Love the people around you. Let the little annoyances – and even some of the big ones – slide. As much as you can, treat every encounter with another human being as if it is your last. Or theirs. Because one day, it will be.

And then . . . the good part starts.

36 thoughts on “The Last Six Funerals”

  1. That my friend was wonderful! Our congregation is also experiencing what seems an endless string of loss. I enjoy everything you write but this was one of the best.

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  2. In the last 10 months, I have lost my 27 year old nephew, a few months later his girlfriend, also to suicide and my father died this week. We have cried a bucket of tears and are exhausted from the weight of the loss. I am grateful for the love of our Lord through it all. Your post is timely and comforting too. Thank you.

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  3. Again, you speak to me wireless and with so much strength that it strengthens me.

    I’m in Auburn to visit my mother for a few hours over two days – thinking I should be planning my work for next week and knowing this is more important. Thinking I should be more available to my grown children but knowing I can only be in one place at a time – hoping they understand. And all the time knowing every trip I make is likely the last.

    And knowing I haven’t been able to be there for friends who have lost a dad, grandfather, son, wife, mom.

    I can’t be two places at once and I know that too.

    Thank you for pointing it all out to shore up my common sense when I lose it.

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  4. For a minute I thought you were writing about my experience over the last two months. I think it’s been six extended family or friends since just before Thanksgiving. Your words are well written, thanks.

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    • I am sorry for your losses, Randy. Feels like we enter seasons of loss and struggle. For awhile, life feels like spring or summer. Then, the bitterness comes. Stay close to others, draw near to God. That’s where warmth and life are. Hang in there. JV

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  5. This is so true! We came so close to having that last moment this year in our family and every day truly is a gift. You never know when that last moment will be the last. The shock of it all still takes my breath away most days. A blink of an eye is all the time it takes for your world to change so value every moment of vision the Lord blesses you with.

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  6. I was struck by your comments about the visitation and realized it depended on the circumstances of the death. An unexpected, shocking death is very difficult to get through, and very difficult to share with others. But a death that is expected and prepared for can be such a wonderful time of joy and sharing with others that also loved the one who has passed!

    Thank you for your thoughts.

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  7. Hey Jody! It’s been a long time… My mom told me about your blog and I have read through your posts a time or two. I have enjoyed them but I wanted to thank you for this one. My family has had a rough couple of years after losing 3 out of 4 grandparents and unexpectedly my uncle. This is definitely a time of sadness for us and has brought our family closer together. We talk a little more and let the little things go a little more.

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    • Hi Nikkie. It’s great to hear from you. I’m glad you are able to find the blessing in the struggles your family has faced. Love and blessings to you all. JV

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  8. This is so true Jody! The sudden death of my sister literally has taken my breath away for 6 months now. If I truly believe what I profess to believe then I have to know that she is in the presence of Jesus and be so happy that she is there already with our sweet parents and loved ones. My heart will hurt forever but my faith keeps my eyes on the goal and the determination to be there too. You and Lisa have always had such precious words of love and encouragement for me and this one really hit the mark. Love you!

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    • I am saddened to learn of your sister’s death. There is room for grief in faith. When someone who has been a part of our lives all of our lives is taken, we cannot help but feel a piece of us is missing. Blessings as you walk through this valley. JV

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  9. Amazing insights for all of us…
    Your thoughtful expressions touch the grief with real comfort. You have a sense of others that is a blessing shared.
    My family’s resent loss is bittersweet as her dreadful pangs of pain are over. But the loss of her smile is a new pain.

    Joy comes in the morning….

    (From Cavett’s mom)

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    • Thank you Barb. We are touched by your loss, but grateful with you that your loved one’s pain is over. Joy does indeed come in the morning. Tolkein said that we only come to the morning through shadows. But the morning does come. JV

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  10. As We know it can come in the blink of an eye! Every day is a gift to use in some way to glorify God And His Son! We pray at the end God Will Say.. Enter, You Are Found Faithful! Your Words Always Brings Back Found Memories! Thanks, Love To You And Lisa

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    • It was, Glenda — my first. Your family has been precious to me ever since. And I remember so well watching how Virgil Richie ministered to all of you. He taught me much. Blessings. JV

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  11. Jody, I love your posts, as you always seem to find just the “right” words to say to comfort us. I found this saying by Max Lucado that is so true. “When you are in the final days of your life, what will you want? Will you hug that college degree in the walnut frame? Will you ask to be carried to the garage so you can sit in your car? Will you find comfort in rereading your financial statement? Of course not. What will matter then will be people. If relationships will matter most then, shouldn’t they matter most now?” – Max Lucado

    We need to cherish all our loved ones and keep them close to our hearts. Every morning before I leave for work I always tell my sister I love her and give her a big hug. You never know what the day will bring.

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