I'm sitting here alone in a room full of people that I don't know. I'm here for a friend who has just lost her spouse. She is one of three I can list off the top of my head that this has happened to. I don't know if that means my generation has good or bad odds with spousal mortality.
I didn't know him well, not apart from what I've read and heard of him anyway. It seems he was a good man... a family man... really wanted to be a good dad, not like his stepdad... left high paying jobs on purpose because he was missing out on seeing the kids he and my friend had grow up and family time mattered to him. He also liked sports... coached all the little league teams and such.
Though I didn't know him myself, as far as I was aware he took care of my friend and their children, and that was all I needed to know. Well, that, and that they were inseparable, that they instantly clicked, and that she loved him. So did her family, apparently. Her sister considered him a substitute husband and he would do things like put up her sister's Christmas lights and fix things around her sister's house. My friend's family was crying more today than she was. My friend just looked tired... exhausted. Like she'd had a sleepless night. I suppose that is the earmark of a good man, your in-laws love you, and your wife misses you.
So, here I sit, an old friend at a funeral, surrounded by the vestiges of my old friend's new life. Apart from her family and her best friend (that I've also known since childhood), I don't know a single person here... not even her children. I'm without words for my presence here - because I feel like I need an excuse to be present, apart from my affection for her. I am clearly the pariah - set apart for God knows what. Still, it is lonely to be at a funeral alone. I cannot imagine how she feels.
Well,... that isn't entirely true. I can imagine what she feels... and that is exactly why I don't want to. I know how deep my thoughts can go and I'm already crying over a man I've never met. So, no, I am determined to not make more of a mess of myself than I already feel like I am. I will not attempt to imagine what she is feeling.
This entire room is teeming with life. Life that has gathered to remember the life that my friend has lost, but they don't even discuss him. They only talk about themselves. At the next table over they are talking about a restaurant down the road. At another they are talking about who is going to pick up grandma. Nothing is being said about this man that I don't know. Funerals are strange that way. Everyone apparently already knows everything about everyone, so there is nothing new to share. Then there are strangers like me, who have no memories of this man, who only have love for a friend. I hope strangers come to my funeral and ask the people who knew me questions about what I was like. I hope that I live well enough so that those who know me will have wonderful answers (or at least interesting ones).
They are clearing up the tables now, and the family is heading out. I still know next to nothing of the man - only his love for my friend.. and her love for him... and that is enough for me.
