New Year's Resolution

I attended the funeral of a man I’d never met this morning. His life intercepted mine only in death, but I felt compelled to go. I was running late, having lined up babysitting for the kids at the very last moment. I was unprepared.

When I entered the building, a procession of the casket followed by close friends and family members were making their way into the auditorium. I stopped abruptly a few steps inside the door, my heels suddenly much too loud in the reverent hush, my white coat too bright. I had thrown on the first thing in my closet. It wasn’t black, and for a moment I felt uncomfortably misdressed. I don’t go in for black at a funeral. But neither was it my wish to offend.

I watched two teenage daughters, and his wife walk by, feeling sheepish, and uncomfortable, wishing I could say something, knowing I couldn’t, even if I’d had the opportunity. Why do people always wish to speak to grief?

I crept into the auditorium, taking one of the side aisles to avoid following the processional. The auditorium is packed. The moment I enter, I feel a wash of emotion that is palpable. I realize as I take a seat that this is the intimacy of loss.

For the next hour and a half, I laughed, and cried a little. I am glad I was there, to honor a man who was loved, who was a hero to his family, his church and his community. He was a man who acted, who made joy. I wish him well, and I am content he is joyful even now. At times during the service I wonder when and where I will find myself sending someone else on as I am today. I wonder how I will go, and how I will be remembered. I wonder how I will cope with the loss of my husband, my family or friends.

I walked away reflecting, as one must do in the face of death, on how delicate, and wonderful, and short life is. It is a new year, and I cannot think of a better way to welcome it than to have been lifted up and touched in such a beautiful way. I am grateful for my family, grateful to love and be loved. This past year, I have been consumed at times with irresolution, with doubt, and fear. These have been walls that have bound me as effectively as any real prison. But I resolve to act this year. To reach out to people who need whatever I can give.

Happy New Year, everyone. Know that I often think of you.

Love,

The Professor’s Wife