I went to a funeral today.
My second one in less than a week, actually, and my third one this summer. I sure wish people would quit dying. This constant reminder of humankind's inevitable mortality is one I do not welcome. I don't want to think about having to bury my parents, my husband, or my friends. In my mind, we are all going to live forever. Death is supposed to be for television and movies, not for those I love.
The church was hot and stuffy today. I noticed fans on the ceiling, but either they didn't work or no one thought to turn them on, which was a shame. Fanning my sweaty, tear stained face with a program, I wondered if it was disrespectful to use a photo of the deceased to keep my makeup from melting off of my face. I didn't know M. well. As a matter of fact, I didn't even recognize her by name until I searched for her facebook profile, and when her smiling face popped up in front of me I was surprised to realize that I did remember her. I've dealt blackjack in 11 different bars over a span of 7 or 8 years (but who's counting), and I've seen dozens upon dozens of cocktail waitresses and bartenders, djs and door guys. And I am not kidding when I say I wouldn't know most of them from a stranger in the street. But I do remember M. She was a shot girl at a bar that I dealt at a year and a half ago. In my memory, M. was "the one with the fabulous shoes and the great legs." I probably only spoke to her a couple of times, but I definitely remember her. My eyes would follow her as she pranced around the bar with her shot tray, wearing 6-inch heels and having a great time. It made me smile to watch her, because it takes a real commitment to work in shoes like that. She claimed her feet never got sore, which, if that was true, she was lucky! Lol. M. was a head-turner, and not just because she had great legs and a beautiful smile. She really had a sparkle. She looked so fun and full of life. A hundred pictures of her were pinned up at the funeral, all showing the same girl I remember. A girl who bore no resemblance at all to the one lying silent and still in the casket next to them.
The cacophony of sniffles and ragged breaths all but drowned out the pastor as she stated with absolute certainty that M. is resting safely in God's arms. She told those gathered that there was nothing that they could have done, there was no way to see this coming. My uncle passed away last week, falling victim to cancer that moved much more quickly than expected. He left behind a young widow and a 15-year old daughter. He won't celebrate a 20th anniversary with my aunt, and he won't experience the joy of one day walking my cousin down the aisle. Still. His funeral was his loved ones, solemnly saying their goodbyes. M.'s funeral was a gathering of shell-shocked family and friends, united in grief and confusion. How do you wrap your head around something like someone you care for choosing to end their own life? My uncle lost his battle to stay alive. M. chose instead to surrender to her demons. Is that an act of selfishness? Or an act of selflessness, where one truly believes that others will be better off without them? We'll never know. And I'll never understand.
Today was a reminder to me that we may not always realize the ways in which we touch other peoples' lives. Obviously, M. had no idea what her death would do to the people around her. Or that someone like me would shed tears over her passing. But heartache is blind to reason. And whatever was going on in her head and in her heart that caused her so much grief and despair can no longer be helped. A young life, cut short. I hope that through their confusion her family and friends can take some solace in the fact that in God's embrace, M. has found the peace she was looking for.
