Funerals and Farewells

So, I sat in the funeral home waiting for the service to begin. The place was overflowing.

Where, I wondered, had all these people been while this man was alive? I knew, from working at the assisted living facility for a year, that he had had few visitors, even his own family.

I knew he had lived the last months of his life convinced that his children were mad at him. (True, I fear, as he had been a long-term alcoholic.) Convinced, also, that his friends had abandoned him. And most poignantly, grieving for his wife who had passed away a few years before.

I listened to the preacher extol his life. Born of German immigrants, he had come here and built his home with his own hands. He had served in WWII on the beach at Normandy and in the Battle of the Bulge earning 5 bronze stars and a purple heart. Upon returning, he suffered nightmares and neighbors reported he took long walks and sometimes needed help finding his way home. Post-traumatic stress was not a recognized condition at the time. There was no mention of the drinking. The elephant in the living room was never acknowledged but I doubt anyone there was ignorant of its presence.

Is it any wonder he drank to drown out the war memories? Any wonder that he continued to do so to ease his loneliness and feelings of guilt in his last years?

I know that growing up with an alcoholic father was hard. My own upbringing had similar challenges, a work-a-holic can be as bad. But, I also learned before it was too late, that forgiveness is possible and rewarding.

I am grateful to have come to know my father as an adult in ways I could never know him as a child. When he leaves this Earth, I will have some comfort in that. I appreciate the lesson learned at this funeral. I shall take none of his remaining days for granted.

Auf wiedersehen, mein Freund. Schlaf in Ruh.