Funeral versus Feasting!!
“It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart.” Ecclesiastes 7:2
My father quoted this verse the other day, when I was whining and trying all kinds of tactics not to go for a funeral, early this week. He said that in a light vein, but it struck me with a force that dragged me to the decision to accompany my parents to the funeral of the departed, my grandfather’s sister.
I could recollect only two funerals where I have been to before- my grand parents’. I was in high school when my grand mom passed away, and that was the first time I saw my dad break down. She had fractured her leg and was bed ridden for two years. I remember making good friends with all the home nurses who stayed with us to take care of her. I even used to write to some of them after they left! We used to pray that she’d be able to walk some day, and my dad kept his faith till five minutes before she died. He told us later that, one day, as he came out of her room, he felt as if she deserved something better than this misery on earth. He went straight to his room, and asked God for the first time to take her to Him, and in minutes she was gone!
My grand dad passed away two years later. I had my 10th Board Math exam that day. I went to sleep late the previous day and early next morning, at around 3 o’clock, I heard my mom calling out my name in desperation. I was still half asleep, when I ran to my appachan’s bedroom next to ours. My mom was holding him and he was trying hard to catch his breath. I figured it was a heart attack again (he had survived two massive ones earlier) and in no time I was in my senses. My mom ran to the neighbour (my dad wasn’t in station, then) and I sat on the bed holding him, wondering how I could comfort him, as his face convulsed in pain. The next moment, he fell back onto the bed and I was holding his head in the palm of my left hand, and he gasped thrice for breath… and never moved again…that was death, in front of my eyes! The intellect of the fifteen year old could not discern what had happened. I went for my exam (I couldn’t have missed it!) and stayed at my friend’s for two days (the subsequent days also I had exams) and kept praying hard for him, as I was told that he’s in the I.C.U. Finally, when the news of his death was disclosed to me, with utmost sensitivity, I replayed in my mind how it had happened, and was horrified! I felt a lump in my throat that refused to subside in spite of my swallowing hard!.... I remember his funeral quite vividly…I was in my school uniform (I came straight from the exam hall) and my dad held me as I walked towards my grand father’s body…looking at his ever graceful face, I whispered in my heart, as tears rolled down my cheeks, “I didn’t know you were dying in my arms!”
We sat in solemn silence as we drove down to this funeral. No one spoke and it felt like all of us were lost in our own worlds. The recorder was playing the collection of selected hymns that reminded us of our roots. Hymns are a part of me and so are they for my parents. I doubt if my younger siblings relate to them so much as we do.
When we reached the place, people had started moving to the church. The service wasn’t long…the close relatives were looking sad and some were weeping, while others were busy catching up with each other… I could see a sea of grey heads, and faces I wouldn’t recognize…people were sharing good things about the one who’s no more…I began feeling uncomfortable…I drifted away into my own thoughts…what would people say of me, if I die today?…Even if they would want to say nice things about me, what can they possibly say?…That I had a nice smile? That I was a good friend? That I lived a respectable life?...What would God say?.........
“You were two years old when I saw you last!!”, a very elderly woman was telling my dad! That brought a smile to my face and I was back to the real world.
After all the “It’s been so long since we saw each other!” and “Your daughter has grown so big!” and “So, you are staying at the same place?” and “Remember, when…..” etc, from different people, we started from there. I was thinking then, I came back with enough food for thought than when I came back from a wedding!
In my opinion, funerals mean much more than giving an honorable farewell to the departed. It leaves the attendees enough to munch on and digest before it is time for theirs! (Apart from being a quiet reminder of the inevitability called death that might knock at your door any time!!) Most importantly, it humbles us a great deal- if it doesn’t, nothing else would!
My father quoted this verse the other day, when I was whining and trying all kinds of tactics not to go for a funeral, early this week. He said that in a light vein, but it struck me with a force that dragged me to the decision to accompany my parents to the funeral of the departed, my grandfather’s sister.
I could recollect only two funerals where I have been to before- my grand parents’. I was in high school when my grand mom passed away, and that was the first time I saw my dad break down. She had fractured her leg and was bed ridden for two years. I remember making good friends with all the home nurses who stayed with us to take care of her. I even used to write to some of them after they left! We used to pray that she’d be able to walk some day, and my dad kept his faith till five minutes before she died. He told us later that, one day, as he came out of her room, he felt as if she deserved something better than this misery on earth. He went straight to his room, and asked God for the first time to take her to Him, and in minutes she was gone!
My grand dad passed away two years later. I had my 10th Board Math exam that day. I went to sleep late the previous day and early next morning, at around 3 o’clock, I heard my mom calling out my name in desperation. I was still half asleep, when I ran to my appachan’s bedroom next to ours. My mom was holding him and he was trying hard to catch his breath. I figured it was a heart attack again (he had survived two massive ones earlier) and in no time I was in my senses. My mom ran to the neighbour (my dad wasn’t in station, then) and I sat on the bed holding him, wondering how I could comfort him, as his face convulsed in pain. The next moment, he fell back onto the bed and I was holding his head in the palm of my left hand, and he gasped thrice for breath… and never moved again…that was death, in front of my eyes! The intellect of the fifteen year old could not discern what had happened. I went for my exam (I couldn’t have missed it!) and stayed at my friend’s for two days (the subsequent days also I had exams) and kept praying hard for him, as I was told that he’s in the I.C.U. Finally, when the news of his death was disclosed to me, with utmost sensitivity, I replayed in my mind how it had happened, and was horrified! I felt a lump in my throat that refused to subside in spite of my swallowing hard!.... I remember his funeral quite vividly…I was in my school uniform (I came straight from the exam hall) and my dad held me as I walked towards my grand father’s body…looking at his ever graceful face, I whispered in my heart, as tears rolled down my cheeks, “I didn’t know you were dying in my arms!”
We sat in solemn silence as we drove down to this funeral. No one spoke and it felt like all of us were lost in our own worlds. The recorder was playing the collection of selected hymns that reminded us of our roots. Hymns are a part of me and so are they for my parents. I doubt if my younger siblings relate to them so much as we do.
When we reached the place, people had started moving to the church. The service wasn’t long…the close relatives were looking sad and some were weeping, while others were busy catching up with each other… I could see a sea of grey heads, and faces I wouldn’t recognize…people were sharing good things about the one who’s no more…I began feeling uncomfortable…I drifted away into my own thoughts…what would people say of me, if I die today?…Even if they would want to say nice things about me, what can they possibly say?…That I had a nice smile? That I was a good friend? That I lived a respectable life?...What would God say?.........
“You were two years old when I saw you last!!”, a very elderly woman was telling my dad! That brought a smile to my face and I was back to the real world.
After all the “It’s been so long since we saw each other!” and “Your daughter has grown so big!” and “So, you are staying at the same place?” and “Remember, when…..” etc, from different people, we started from there. I was thinking then, I came back with enough food for thought than when I came back from a wedding!
In my opinion, funerals mean much more than giving an honorable farewell to the departed. It leaves the attendees enough to munch on and digest before it is time for theirs! (Apart from being a quiet reminder of the inevitability called death that might knock at your door any time!!) Most importantly, it humbles us a great deal- if it doesn’t, nothing else would!
posted by Sarah at
Thursday, December 07, 2006
4 Comments:
U r very very expressive. Its hard not to have ur heart strings tugget at when one reads your words. Its beautiful. I was very touched. I seriously suggest you give writing a serious go. Very few people are given the talent to express clearly in words what one feels in the heart. Please keep writing.
It is so beautifully written..no words to even describe what I feel !!!!..:)
Thanks, people!
I wrote it on one of those days when ma heart was full and i had to write! I'm glad u felt what i did, wen u read it! :)
Wat ur frens have commented on your blog is true da. Wen I read ur blogs, I can feel wat u're really trying to say..wat u must hav gone thru at that moment. Praise God! This talent is for His glory. Keep being available. Luv,
Rini
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home