I went to a shiva call the other night (shiva: In Judaism, the first period of structured mourning. Throughout
the shiva period, mourners come together in the mourner’s home to offer their
condolences and support.) Although it might sound odd to those who are not
familiar with the custom, this shiva was truly what one should hope for.
Yes, everyone offered their condolences and concern for the
bereaved, but then the house was filled with smiles, chuckles, and remembered
stories to share. The table and counters were laden with trays of cookies,
cakes, fruits and hot foods — all brought by visitors or sent by friends to
help “take care” of the grieving family.
The house was full, so much so that there was barely a place
to sit, with friends who knew the deceased (some from early childhood), knew
the mourning family, and distant relatives. The woman had been a teacher and
former students and her fellow teachers came, neighbors stopped in, members of
her social club. There were a lot of people filled with love.
Seeing how this woman touched so many lives and how many
people loved her makes someone wonder at their own mortality and how she will
be remembered when her time comes. Of course I know my immediate family will be
there and most probably some cousins and even a neighbor or two… but will the
funeral chapel be filled and will my loved ones’ home be filled with people who
remember me and who will help to ease the grief?
I’ve been haunted by a funeral I once attended. She was, in
my heart, a wonderful person, but she had survived all of her blood family and
many long-time friends. There was a storm the day of the funeral and while she
had been active in her local community, she had pre-made her arrangements in a
funeral home that necessitated public transportation for her neighbors to
attend. Between those that weren’t left to mourn her passing, the horrible
weather, and the distance from her small circle of friends, there were only
five of us (plus the officiant) in the chapel. Six people to send her on her
way. Six.
When it is my time, will there be a houseful of people to
remember me, or only a mere handful to send me off? Which one will I be? I hope
that people will laugh and smile, I hope that I will be remembered fondly, and
I hope there will be warm hearts to surround my loved ones and help them to
move on.
He has achieved success who has lived
well, laughed often, and loved much;
Who has gained the respect of
intelligent men and the love of little children;
Who has filled his niche and
accomplished his task;
Who has left the world better than he
found it;
Who has looked for the best in others
and given the best he had;
Whose life was an inspiration;
Whose memory is a benediction.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson
