Saying Goodbye

The other day was a difficult one. I attended a funeral, an occasion which in my advancing years happens with far too much frequency. It wasn't the funeral that caused my dismay--as they go it was a thoughtful celebration of a man's life and a sweet tribute to one of the kindest souls I have ever known. But listening to family recount a few anecdotes about the life and times of this good man reminded me that an ocean away another good man was being exalted, as he should have been, for living a life of piety and love.

I wish to take nothing away from the lamentations of those mourning the late Pope Frances. He was by all accounts a man who lived what he preached, and whether one is Catholic, Christian, a believer or not, the way in which he lived his life must be respected and we can only hope sets an example we should aspire to for ourselves. Forgive me if comparing these two seems inappropriate to some readers, but I see in them both those most noble of human attributes.

Few of us are simply that good--however much we may hope to be. And while I do not know every minute detail of their lives, and suspect they both humbly found faults in themselves even if we did not, they lived lives of faith that transcended the petty concerns that occupy most of our lives. To be sure, they were not immune to hardship, not inexperienced in the ways in which we humans exhibit the basest of behaviors. But some essential spirit dwelt within them, an alchemy that transformed the worst of human instincts into the highest.

I very much doubt my friend would be comfortable with this post--he was modest and uncomfortable with praise. But I wrote it because his passing reminded me that we all too often celebrate in death those things we should set our eyes upon in life. Funerals are for the living of course, a way to gain closure of a kind and to vent the boiling grief that sets upon us when we lose those we love. I know first hand that the grieving will last far beyond the moment and that time may soften the edges. But I know too that those few minutes we take to remember the passage of good men from this life into whatever comes next is not so much about them as it is about the call to live better, to be worthy of the time we walked the earth.

So I said my goodbye, chatted with family and friends at the reception and raised a toast to my friend. His death was untimely--but he faced it with calm and determination to live the end as he had lived the beginning and the middle and all the days in between. He had no enemies that I know of, only those who acknowledged his goodness. Isn't that what we should all want?