Two Funerals

I attended two funerals in two days. One for a man who lived well; a long, satisfied life, a life of giving and caring. The other, for a woman who lived a life cut short, but also one of satisfaction, of giving and caring. The funerals coming so close together, like the deaths, twenty-four hours apart, I can't help but compare - not the lives, but the way they were each grieved and remembered.

Both funeral services were a celebration of the life they lived. The older man's character, family and successes were lauded. Tears were shed over the remembrances offered by his grandchildren, but the tears were tempered with laughter. He left a tribe of family members, all better because of him. He left friends and family reluctant, but ready to let him go.

The younger woman's funeral was a tribute to her life, as well. Her years cauterized by a courageous battle with cancer. She left behind a husband, barely grown sons, a grandchild, a father, a sister, and hundreds of family and friends trying bravely to convince themselves she lived a full life, a complete life, in the years she was allotted.

One life lived to its fullest, one life cut short. Both lives lived well. Two funerals in two days will make you think. I wonder how much time I have? I realize how much time I have squandered. Will I leave a tribe of family misty-eyed, but satisfied with what I gave them or will I leave them mourning because I wasn't finished living? I've known the pain of losing my mother too soon, the pain of raising my children without their grandmother, the pain of carrying on without my mother. The pain of losing my father followed too quickly. But I have also known the joy of a life lived long and well. My grandmother continues to touch her family tribe with her love and wisdom of one-hundred and two years.

I know the admonition, we all do. Live everyday as if it were your last. Keep your lamps trimmed. We don't know the day or the hour. Two funerals in two days - I'm thinking of this now, but how long before I forget?