The gloomy room filled with family members dressed in
their best clothes. The men wore their suits. The women wore their finest. No
one smiled. It was a solemn day.
I shook hands with a great uncle. "Good to see you
again, Ivan. I'm sorry it's under these circumstances."
"Nice to see you again, Mike." He held my hand. "When
was the last time we met?"
"I think it was at Sim's funeral." I held back tears.
Sim was my granddad. I loved him. Ivan was Sim's brother.
"It's been that long?" Ivan asked.
"Yes, it's been that long. I'm sorry! I should have
stayed in touch." I apologized.
I walked around the room, held hands and hugged people
I haven't seen in many years. We gathered for the death of a loved one.
"When was the last time we saw each other?" Another
relative asked.
Once again, I mentioned another funeral.
Why?
Why did I wait? Why did they?
Why did we wait so long?
Why didn't we stay in touch? We were family.
Through the open doors to the chapel, I saw the casket
with another member of our family resting. The last time I saw him was at
another's funeral. It was too late to stay in touch with this person now.
I hugged my mum, shook hands with my brothers and
uncles, and held grieving aunts. Everyone was there to show their respects to a
life lost. The whole family in one place at a bad time.
We gathered for happy times - weddings - but it was
under the clouds of grief at funerals the majority appeared. It saddened me.
Families should get together more often.
I'm thousands of miles away from my family now. If
something happens, I won't be there when the remaining members gather. I'll just
have Ginny to share my grief, but she's never met my family. She'll know my pain
but not them.
The other day, I learned of the passing of an internet
friend - Fred Moore. Fred and I met on the internet chat for the forty-plus
generation. I found the group back in the late 1990's and spent a lot of time
making friends there.
Over the years, I had to opportunity to meet a few. I
met a few members in Toronto. Another year it was in Montreal. A group of us
even met in Saint John, New Brunswick.
Life moved on. We changed and found other interests. A
few of us still email. The old chat room dwindled down to just a few members
signing in on irregular schedules.
On the day of Fred's passing, I signed on for the
first time in many months There like my family, were all the old gang. They'd
come to express their thoughts and feelings and offer condolences to Fred's
daughter. Her mother died a few years ago. Fred is with his wife again. The rest
of us will move on, but I hope we meet again under happy circumstances.
A death brings people together, just as disasters do.
I wish happiness brought us together more.
Why does death bring us together?
Michael T. Smith
heartsandhumor@gmail.com
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