When you get older you think occasionally about how it all might end.
In my case, I choose to ignore it but the wife brings it up once in a while.
I have a friend that every morning, the first thing he does is get the newspaper to read the obituaries.
He says he wants to know if any of his friends have died.
It seems to me if the dead person was a friend he’d know about it before the newspaper.
Then he says the paper will usually note when the service is.
So, why is he interested in going to the service?
To show respect, he says.
The time to show someone respect is when they’re alive and can appreciate it, not when they’re dead and could care less.
The wife doesn’t like that.
She says you show respect to the rest of the family by going, whether you knew the deceased well or not.
Okay – I’ll give her that, but since no one invites me to those things I suppose I won’t be judged.
And she goes by herself if it’s for someone she knows and I don’t.
I can count the number of funerals I’ve gone to in my entire life on one hand.
They’ve been close family members, otherwise I usually skip them.
Some may think so but I don’t.
I prefer to remember someone when they were around and not as a box of ashes on a pedestal with people telling long stories about how wonderful he or she was.
Then it’s followed with socializing over the free food catching up with old friends.
A celebration of life they call it now.
I like that, but I’d rather just work it through like I did with my stories of my dog.
I’m sure few who read it really cared.
And that’s okay, it wasn’t written for them.
The wife has asked me more than once what kind of service I would want.
I tell her I don’t care.
I won’t be there – so to speak.
Funerals are for the living and some need them.
That’s good they have the opportunity.
Some people don’t need them, like me.
That’s okay too.