Wakes and Funerals in the Family

This posting will be a little long, as no funerals that I have attended have ever progressed without incident.  The first wake that I attended was held at a funeral parlor where we had to ascend a long flight of cement stairs.  The grief of those in attendance was devastating; a little boy had been killed by a bus as he rode his bicycle.  I was overwhelmed by the tragedy of the whole affair.  Now as I came out of the funeral parlor, I was accompanied by my mother. I turned to comment on the beauty of the sunset across the river.  Suddenly, without warning, my knees buckled and I rolled, head first down the cement steps.  When I regained consciousness, a gaggle of strangers was crowded around me, all making distress sounds.  A man came and helped me to my feet, while my mother kept asking what had happened.

I was so embarrassed that I had fainted; I tried to brush the dirt off and noticed that my brand new stockings were now hanging in threads; my knee was bleeding and I had a large lump quickly forming on my forehead.  However I was so embarrassed that I claimed totally perfect health.

That was my first experience with fainting, although not my last.

The next post will be about my mother’s wake.


Most of us are afraid of something. Boogeymen are all around us and, just in case we can’t drum up enough of our own, we can always watch the News or The History Channel and it’s ‘Doom & Gloom’ shows about the end of the world.

But fear is always about something imagined. As I sit here and type, nothing is frightening or scary. However if I let my thoughts wander to an hour from now, to tomorrow, or to next year, then the fear can take hold. Fear is always about something that might (or most likely will not ) happen some time in the future.

So, whenever I feel anxious or fearful about anything, I just remind myself that nothing scary is happening right now, and remind myself that I am ‘blessed’ with a very fertile imagination.