After I grew and moved out of the house, and indeed started my own family, I would talk regularly with my parents on the phone, or go visit them.  Often my mother would ask me if I remembered so and so. I almost never did. Maybe they were parents of one of the my other siblings friends, or from a connection with my parents that I was not part of.  Then my mother would proceed to tell me that they had died.  They were at that age in life when lots of friends and acquaintances were dying. She would tell me, often about how she and my father went to the funeral or to the wake or calling hours.  In doing so, my mother reinforced in me many lessons about the power of connections, also about the importance of showing up at funerals.  These now deceased individuals had played a small or large part in my parents’ life or lives together, and now they were gone, but their family still survived. Being able to be there to say a few kind words, or just simply being seen there helps the mourners know that their loved one was important and valued.  Being able to tell a story about them, that their children or grandchildren might not know is like giving a gift.  So as much as I can, I attempt to attend calling hours, often as much to honor the survivors as to honor the deceased individual. It’s what my parents taught me.

© words by Dan DeMarle 2017