Like a large portion of society I feel weird in funerals, I feel especially lost in a funeral of a close member of the family. You look to your left and see your mother crying and to your right your father looking indifferent. Aunts beside themselves with grief and neighbors you have never seen before screaming for God to help them, what is going on here. The scene doesn't really do much for me except sculpt my face into an emotionless form.
With the lack of emotion comes deep thought, thoughts that make you drift far away from this place that flows with tears and keeps you in a constant day dream. The question I ask is, since I am already dead and cannot take my self to the grave , who will carry me?
As a child your parents carried you around, dad drove the car while mum sat in the passenger seat chatting everyone up. Growing up you took yourself to places that you wanted to go but at the end someone will hold Your hand and take you somewhere you don't want to go. Who leads you there will not be important to you but I think you would prefer someone who actually cared for you. Morbid thoughts have crossed my mind now , guess its time to put them together to make sense of it all. I just left funeral a couple of hours ago, not a family member or a close associate but a client's parent. It was from a different world than I am used to as it was a different religion and the concept seemed alien to me. The dearly departed had passed on that morning and by evening she was being laid to rest. In our culture the person ends up being paraded infront of relatives and at some point travels half way around the world draining cash reserves and peoples emotion. All seems unnecessary to me after what I experienced today but I believe some people need that so that they can complete their grieving process. That is however not what I had observed that hit home. My client is a very successful man and true to their background the whole family polls together to take care of their own. In other words the whole family is successful and thus are part of the 1%. As I worked into the cemetery I noticed that his direct family members drove the biggest cars and displayed some form of opulence even after doing their best to dress down in respect of their departed mother. The family resemblance was uncanny and they all towered over everyone. As I was not present at the mosque, for obvious reason, I joined the rest if the people at the parking lot for the burial at the appointed hour. People quietly stood in groups talking in low tones until the body arrived. There is little I can explain about the ceremony that a Christina would understand but what hit met the most was the emotion. The raw emotion, these men had lost there mother less than 12 hours ago thus there was no time to create a brave face for the family. There were no women allowed at the burial which made it easier for them to let it all out. It truly wasn't easy, wasn't easy for these captains of industry to hold it all back. At that particular moment in time watching these big men weeping, I realize that I need to appreciate it all while I still have it.
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