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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1416306-This-Storm
by Rory
Rated: E · Monologue · Philosophy · #1416306
A Memoir of a funeral, a wedding, thoughts on life, death and how i want to live life.
It was time to go. Each in their best suits, six men stepped out of the black car and circled around to the back. Making sure that they were in the correct order, not a word was said as the bells rung heavy in my ears and the back of the car was opened.

A couple summers ago I had been through a rough time. My grandmother had past away and I had to..."had to" are not the words I am looking for-I was thankfully chosen to carry her coffin into the procession. The feeling was not like anything I had ever felt before. The emptiness that encompassed the room was enough to make me want to run away. The haunting echo of the organ drummed against my ears but nothing got through, everything was silent to me. To me there was no music, only a silence dampened with sadness. There is no other time in my life when I had felt this feeling, a mixture of the numbness felt when lonely and the fear felt with heavy responsibility. The feeling washed over my body like a cold, thick liquid slowly dripping down my spine. Each pair of glassy eyes gazed down at me, each saddened, worn out face looked in my direction.  The eyes of each individual seemed to be blank, like they were watching something come towards them that they wanted to stay away. The first steps were hard, it took everyone to work together to get through it, we couldn't stop, but nobody wanted to go.  The pace was slow.

Everyone there was family, people I felt comfortable around, people I had spent my entire life with. Even with this fact present, I felt scared at that moment. It was as if I was in the middle of a snowstorm, as if I was walking against a chilling wind, my feet trudging through feet of snow. As we drew closer to the end of the isle we became damper and heavier and the wind became colder and sharper. I don't think any of us would have made it by ourselves. Together we somehow managed to get to the end, it felt like hours had gone by and I didn't know how I was going to get to the end of the ceremony. I took a seat behind my mother.

Sitting, my mind thought on a wedding I had been to recently. It had been a fun service, remembering fond memories and happy times, much like the funeral I was at now. The mood had been different then. The same people that were in the room now had attended that same happy occasion, that delightfully bright time. I remember the wedding well, the grassy hill it took place on, the well groomed, sunned golf course that it overlooked, the warm summer woods to either side, the giant tent just outside the building. The wedding had been full of first times and new questions. My first glass of wine, my first time understanding the significance of seeing adults get drunk, it was a fun night.  The marriage however drew in some questions, as new things always do with my mind. Questions like "will this be me someday?" or "what will my child's wedding be like?" popped into my head. There was little time to think deeply at the wedding, more people to meet, our family was getting bigger.

Thinking on this wedding, I looked around at the faces in the church. Those same people that had been so happy at the wedding, so full of life and joy, were surrounding me, tearful and sad. How quickly the happy time seemed to go, the elegant light seemed only a faint glow now. Whether people believe it or not, weddings and funerals are related. They include the same people, both can be celebrations of life, however they are polar opposites of emotion. Each have the same audience, each can have the same message about life and love, but the two different occasions bring about the best and worst thoughts.

The ceremony seems a daze to me now, my eyes wandered around lazily as if in a dream I could not control. I remember seeing my brother in elementary school, my older brother in university, the newlywed couple, my parents and then my eyes drifted to the front. What was it all for? What was the point of it all? To go through all of these stages in life, to gain all of the experience and then just to finish it off at some sort of ritualistic ceremony, as if to simply sum up all you had ever done and be finished with it. Few people really accomplish anything in life; some don't even have fun or live the life that they want to. There are even some who just lie to get to the norm and live it out until death. The difference, I thought, between the wedding and the funeral, between all these different stages in life, was that each one was a different window on a huge building, each one a different channel on a TV. You can peer in, looking at the lives of others, but you must always tune out and live your life the way that you want to. Live your life for yourself. If it means helping others, than go for it.  If I were to be a shadow at my funeral, an unnoticed shade, silent and invisible amongst my friends and family, I want to be able to smile.
© Copyright 2008 Rory (rsmith at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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