Multicolored Emotions of Funerals

What is it about different funerals that bring on varied emotions? I have only been to three funerals in my life. All three were of people I hardly knew, but wish I had.

My first funeral was under tragic circumstances. I personally had only met the two people who were involved in a fatal car accident a couple of times. My wife and brother in law, however, were very good friends with them. They were devastated. It was devastating for thousands. They brought happiness to everyone who met and knew them. It was odd for me. Surrounded by people who were personally hurt by the deaths, I had nothing to really contribute. I felt slightly numb. I grieved for those who experienced such an unfortunate loss, but outside of that my emotions were very minimal. I remember not sure how to react, to feel, to comfort. Sometimes it was as if I didn't even have a soul. Then I realized that it was the exact opposite. I was experiencing so many emotions that my own defense against the overwhelming flood was to shut down, be closed off, and try to think in solitude. I went into a room by myself to think. The feelings were very surreal. I didn't know them, but I grieved dearly for them as if I had known them for years and years. I never wept. There were enough tears. Instead I was internally waging war with my emotions. The conflicts of life lost, friends in pain, made me not sure of anything. The questions raged. I came back out feeling dark on the inside. Twisted and turned and stretched. How was I supposed to feel? The funeral was powerful. That's not how most people would see a funeral. That's how I saw it. The stories of the two, the lives they led, and how they touched different people was simply powerful. Many that day were transformed.

In contrast to a tragic young death, I was also at a funeral for a beloved elderly woman. My wife's grandmother, I saw her every Christmas. That was it. She was a frail lady. I always found her sweet and kind, and the stories I had heard matched those assumptions. Funerals for the elderly always feel different than the one's for the young. We rationalize that once you reach a certain age that it's only a matter of time before the end. "It was her time," they'd say. You rarely hear that at a young funeral. My emotions and rationale were no different. This certainly effected my wife and brother more than myself. Certainly through a sense of transference I tried to feel what they felt, grieved how they grieved. I was sad that I wouldn't get to know her better, sad that she wouldn't be with us for Christmas in the future, and ultimately sad that she wouldn't get to meet her great-granddaughter. But her life was rich, strong, and full of spirit and love. I was asked to be a pallbearer that day. I felt honored. I felt honored to be part of the family. Honored to say goodbye to someone so special in so many lives. It surprised me that these feelings drastically contrasted from the last funeral.

The last one affected me personally more than the last two. My nephew was prematurely born. He was too premature to be saved. The funeral was small, but my grief was tremendous. How can you grieve for someone you never met? It was a common feeling I had through all of these experiences, but this one pierced into me much more. Naturally, as it affected my family. I was excited for my sister. Excited to have a nephew. Excited to have a new member of the family.

Looking back over all of these I have had a mixed multicolored array of emotions. How they effected me were all very different, but the one constant that I find interesting is that they were of people that I hardly knew. I can only feel a sense of blessing that I have been spared the emotions of a funeral with someone I do know.