112/365 Fine Funeral, Fine Funeral

"How was the funeral?" people kept asking me.

"Oh it was fine. Nice. It was fine," I keep replying. I'm reminded of my father-in-law, quoting the man who used to run the spelling bee down in Cairo. A kid would spell a word and he'd say, "Very fine, very fine. But wrong." Jeff does the timing just right.

That's what the funeral was. Very fine. Very fine. But wrong.

It was lovely. It's a nice church, climate controlled. The funeral choir was spectacular for its genre--no reedy sopranos or heavy organ music. The soloist for Ave Maria was well-practiced. The congregation sang some.

But there were three things that tripped me up. The first is typical of all weddings and funerals where folks who usually don't step forward in church have starring roles: the readings were hurried and there were no pauses between things. Everything was in a rush. This always catches me off guard because our church is so good at silence. And silence seemed most appropriate at my aunt's funeral.

Bigger than that, the priest was in a rush. He knew the family well and obviously had affection for my aunt, but he was one of those young priests who is very impressed with his priesthood. His homily sounded like he ordered it on HomiliesRUs.com and then tweaked to add my aunt's name a couple times. I was about to write him off entirely but he ended with a poem that wasn't half bad. And who knows? Maybe he was in a rush because my mom's cousin told him to speed it along. He was just...the kind of guy who would seem rehearsed in casual conversation and overuse your name in a bad attempt to make you feel comfortable.

But the part that was really jarring, the part that made other things not even worth mentioning, was the eulogy. There were three eulogies. The first was from my aunt's grandson's wife. It was good. Touching. Short. The second was from my aunt's son-in-law, which was well written and from the heart. And her son-in-law is a socially awkward amway salesman so that's saying something. After them, though, her son got up. My mom's cousin, in his mid-sixties. At first he just filled in a life for us--her father dying when she was 19, precluding her college admission. Marriage, kids, family, interests.

And then he mentioned her active role in the pro-life movement. Which is true. She was steadfastly a part of Birthright and other support groups. She called her congressman and senator and the White House and prayed and all that. But then he took a dark turn and used the rest of his time in front of us railing against the current government and how angry my aunt was with the way things were headed "in this country."

Now, my aunt was 93 and an eternal optimist. I don't think I ever saw her angry about anything. Ever. She defended criminals and her crazy (actually crazy) brother and lied about uncomfortable things and over all was the most pollyanna person I've ever met. I can see her saying things like "Well, I hope they realize what they're doing wrong" but nothing stronger than that. Really. But to hear her son tell it, tea-party-esque hatred of the government was the central focus of her life.

Maybe it was. Maybe I let our relationship go more than I thought I did. Maybe she was more honest with other people. But even so. Come on. The eulogy is not the time for self-congratulatory angry upper-middle-class lamentations.

I went to the cemetery afterward and stood next to another elderly relative. "You're still a liberal, right?" I whispered.

"Oh, heavens yes," she exclaimed. And we both shook our heads and sighed.

Very fine. But wrong.