![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kirkcudbrightI just found out that my neighbor Bill died Wednesday of throat cancer. He was 57. That doesn't seem so old to me now as it once did, maybe because it takes less and less imagination to see myself as a 57-year-old person. Heck, even 80 doesn't seem that old to me anymore; my dad's going to be 80 in a few weeks.
(My dad, BTW, is in his second round of chemo for lymphoma, doing well as far as I know, but I'm not renowned for keeping in close touch. I'm almost afraid to call.)
The thing I didn't post about was 2 weeks ago today, when we attended the funeral for the father of a close friend of ours. Full Catholic funeral mass, including communion. The priest had no compuctions about speaking for the audience about what We believe and how We feel and how thankful We are that the deceased is in the hands of God. But there was nothing about the deceased himself, no eulogy, nothing to indicate that the priest knew more about him than his name, despite the fact that he was a member of the congregation for decades longer than the priest himself.
Dick was a retired firefighter, and the firefighters were much better about acknowleging and respecting one of their own. As the funeral procession passed the fire house, all the trucks were pulled out to the street, with their lights flashing. And that's where we sussed that the reason the car was pulling hard to the left was that it had a flat tire. If you have to get a flat tire while in a funeral procession for a firefighter, the place to do it is in front of a fire station; the firefighters totally took control, gave Francie a ride to the cemetary, changed the tire for me, and had me on my way in a matter of minutes.
Anyway, that was then. We'll be ducking out of Arisia tomorrow for Bill's wake. He's having a private funeral now, with a memorial service to follow when they can arrange a gospel choir.
(My dad, BTW, is in his second round of chemo for lymphoma, doing well as far as I know, but I'm not renowned for keeping in close touch. I'm almost afraid to call.)
The thing I didn't post about was 2 weeks ago today, when we attended the funeral for the father of a close friend of ours. Full Catholic funeral mass, including communion. The priest had no compuctions about speaking for the audience about what We believe and how We feel and how thankful We are that the deceased is in the hands of God. But there was nothing about the deceased himself, no eulogy, nothing to indicate that the priest knew more about him than his name, despite the fact that he was a member of the congregation for decades longer than the priest himself.
Dick was a retired firefighter, and the firefighters were much better about acknowleging and respecting one of their own. As the funeral procession passed the fire house, all the trucks were pulled out to the street, with their lights flashing. And that's where we sussed that the reason the car was pulling hard to the left was that it had a flat tire. If you have to get a flat tire while in a funeral procession for a firefighter, the place to do it is in front of a fire station; the firefighters totally took control, gave Francie a ride to the cemetary, changed the tire for me, and had me on my way in a matter of minutes.
Anyway, that was then. We'll be ducking out of Arisia tomorrow for Bill's wake. He's having a private funeral now, with a memorial service to follow when they can arrange a gospel choir.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-01-18 07:30 pm (UTC)if i die i want what's left of local midnight (or at least ensmb) to play my memorial.
no subject
Date: 2008-01-19 01:34 am (UTC)My dad died at 52. Holy shit, it feels younger to me now than ever. As I guess one would expect.
::hugs you::