A beautiful funeral 

I went to a funeral today. My friends 17 year old son shot himself. Funeral was in a black baptist church and was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The soulfulness and spirit and rhythm permeated. 
It was standing room only. My friend Wendy’s face was blank. Absent. Zombie like. Sometimes she’d stand up during the service with her arms up but lifeless. Her head draped to one side as she was unable to lift it. But then the preacher brought everyone back to life. Even at times made me feel uplifted with his rhythmic words. 

The absolute nothingingness in her eyes today was haunting. 

The line to get into the church was down the block and at least a 30 min wait. 

Wendy’s joy and love knows no color, sex or limitations. She is a force of energy and happiness and love. 

And to see her today LITERALLY being held up by others as her near lifeless body mourned her son in front of the open casket was too much for any person to witness. 

The preacher said we have a word for children whose parents are gone – orphans. A word for spouses who’ve lost a spouse – widow. What do you call a parent whose child has died? I call it unnatural. 


Uncle Bobby checking in 

Bobby: How was the event last night? You’re down to one pack a day right? 

Mary: Event was AMAZING! I made some great contacts, reconnected with others, and well….the music. Oh the music. I wish you had been there so we could have danced liked fools together. You with your cane and one good leg and me with my terrible rhythm laughing at each other. 

(No mention of my cigarette intake. Some things don’t need mention I suppose)