A Funeral

Last night a 21 year old young woman died in an accident. She was riding her motorcycle, was hit by a car, and was killed. The funeral was today.

I was shocked when church ended and my family, who are usually the last people out of the church, ran towards me and told me we had to leave immediately. It had been spread through the grapevine for the entire service that a woman had died. The funeral was at 11:30, and we were going.

To be honest I did not want to go. Funerals are hard the American way, but I was completely unprepared for this. The "funeral" was more like what we would consider calling hours, people hugging each other and walking through a line to see the closed casket and give their condolences to the family and friends. The difference however was that the family had not had two days to mourn alone before facing the public.

There was no make-up that could hide the fact that they had been up all night crying. There was no hair style or clothing that could help them to appear less heartbroken. In the U.S. the family has a few days. They are able to compose themselves and they laugh and smile in a bumb sort of a way, concealing the fact that they have no idea what they are going to do tomorrow. People that I had seen before, always laughing, were at that moment completely broken. I did not know the girl who passed on, but it took all of my strength not to cry for those whose hearts and lives were devasted.

I am going to be honest. That funeral was one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever seen, I wish it weren't real. So do they. . .