Funeral Gloom

I spent the day with my husband, paying our respects to his best friend's father, Rip, who passed away too soon. During the service, I comforted my husband as we listened to the wonderful things that were said of Rip. I knew Rip only through my husband, but he was a real man who valued family above all else. The tears we shed were not only for our friend, but also for us, and those we have lost before. Three years ago it was my mother, and seven years ago it was my dad. But the hardest of all was my husband's father, 16 years ago. He was a young man, at only 59, still just gettting used to being called Grandpa. It has been hard to lose those we love so much, and losing a parent is surely the turning point in your life when you see your own mortality, when you begin to really grow up.

Today I watched as grown men, many dressed in leathers and marked with tattoos, wiping tears from their cheeks. I cried also for them, because the loss of a treasured friend is felt for the rest of your life. Later, we sat with them, and drank a toast to Rip, to all he stood for, to all he created, to all he leaves behind. I feel as though I have aged several more years, and now another of my peers has taken one step closer to where I am - an orphan. Rip's son, Bob, shared with me an important moment he had after Rip died. On his way home at 2:30 am, suddenly his cell phone began making a noise, and as Bob looked down, it was calling the number to his dad's cell phone. A message, perhaps, that Rip is safe but still watching over his loved ones.