The Funeral (Coming-of-Age Sketch)

It was Thursday afternoon as I was leaving my From Rock to Bach class and heading to the Rec center. It was a particularly nice February afternoon and I decided to celebrate by grabbing myself a smoothie. My phone vibrated in my pocket accompanied by a horrible siren ringtone which served as a warning that one of my parents was calling. I answered and heard my mother's voice. I could immediately tell she was upset from the way her voice was shaking.

“Your great-aunt Dorrace passed away last night.”

I didn't really know how to react. I had only met my great-aunt Dorrace a handful of times, and I don't often get the opportunity to see that side of my family much. I asked my mom how she was feeling about everything, and how she was taking the news. She said she would be fine, but that it might take a while.

“We will be coming up for the funeral is this weekend in Fort Worth. We'd love it if you came.”

“Of course. I'd be glad to. I can't to wait to see you both.”

Saturday came more quickly than expected. I woke up early, put on my Sunday best, and met my parents just outside my dorm. I was astonished at just how close the church was to campus. We turned just off Hulen and pretty soon we were on our way inside. We waited in a small room exchanging solemn hellos. As the service began I couldn't help but look around. I hardly ever go to church, and I hadn't been to funeral in eight or ten years. I have been fortunate enough to not encounter death much in my life. Once it was over, we left the building, filed into our cars and began the motorcade. After the burial ceremony we attended the reception at a relative's house.

I had never seen so many distant family members in my life. There were cousins of the first, second, and third variety. People talked to one another and exchanged stories about Dorrace and her husband Kirksey. I was surprised to learn that he had actually taught at TCU as an economics professor and also worked as a drill instructor for ROTC during his time at the university. I made my way through the kitchen, living room, dining room, and eventually touring the entire house talking with people. It appeared that for every one face I managed to recognize, there were two other three other new faces that I had yet to meet. By the time the whole ordeal was finished my palms and my back were sore from all the handshaking and bear-hugging that had transpired.

As we made our way out of the house, I felt a strange sense of duality. I had lost a relative, yet the funeral was not a lamentation of death, but rather a celebration of her life. Although Dorrace's candle had burned out, I met so many others that day that lit anew. At first I didn't know if it was cognitive dissonance or what exactly, but I felt simultaneously sad and happy.