A friends dad passed away about 3 weeks or so ago. Last night they held a celebration of his life. There were lots of pictures being shown, blown up on the wall. In each picture he looked like he loved life and you know he loved his family.
Family members began sharing memories. When they were at the front of the room talking, I could understand them by lip reading. When it went to the back of the room all I heard were voices and precious little distinguishable words. It’s already a sad event so I’m tearing up. The frustration of wanting to hear so bad what was being said sent to me another room for a good cry.
Ken tells me I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear everything and that’s true, I wouldn’t. I know that but it doesn’t lessen the sense of frustration with the situation. Funerals always get to me because I want with all my heart to hear the stories of those passed on. He tells me we should leave and maybe I shouldn’t come to these kinds of things any more. I don’t want that, I was there to show my support. I just needed a good cry. I wanted to stay, there were many friends there.
So I pulled myself together and we went back to standing in the living room with the last of the stories being shared. I watched the pictures flash by. Then it was visiting time again and I was face to face with people again. I’m glad I went. It’s hard sometimes not hearing much but I can’t lock myself away from the world either.