Today, by myself, I went to the funeral of a baby who's family I had never met. My husband was unable to get away from work, so I went by myself. And you know what? It wasn't that hard. I admit that I was caught off guard for a moment when I saw that tiny, two foot long, white fuzzy casket. Otherwise, I remained stoic and unmoved.
Why on earth was I not a disaster? Why didn't I cry my eyes out? I didn't shed a tear. It is sick, that's what it is. It should have rocked my world and it barely registered with me. What is wrong with me?
It wasn't a lovely service. The officiant said things that I thought were horrible. In speaking to the Ecclesiastes "a time to every purpose under heaven" reading, he told the grieving parent's "Trust in God. God knows what's good for you." WTF??? Is he implying that this family has to suffer the worst of experiences because it is "good for" them??? I will give the benefit of the doubt and tell you that English is not his first language, therefore the implications of the colloquialism may just be beyond him. But, again, WTF???
He spent most of the time pushing pat little platitudes at them. Their son is in a wonderful place. God called him to Him. It was his time. Blah, blah, frickin' blah.
I think that I am, in part, ranting about the issue of God in response to Catherine's raging against God. I get that, I truly do. And this service today was yet another example of how the "messengers of God's word" have no clue about how we feel. Not a frickin' sniff. I am glad that the family will probably remember little of what was said at the funeral.
And I am deeply in debt to the compassionate, empathetic, eloquent, understanding woman that performed my son's funeral rites.
So I guess I was not unmoved. I can do a hell of a job fooling myself.