“There’s no better occasion to rate a person other than man’s own funeral.“
How ironic. If you ever want to know how well you “did” as a person, it would be right at the moment the result is no longer relevant to you.
Birthdays. Baptism. Graduation. Engagement. Marriage. Job promotion. These are pits-stops or benchmarks that people often looked at rating ones own popularity, success.
“There’s no better occasion to see how far-reaching a person’s life is other than man’s own funeral.”
In our grandfathers’ days there were still those funeral procession that stretched as long as several blocks. The mourning family members, dressed in their respective colours, which symbolises their generation within the family, accompanied the dead for one last journey.
I had the privilege to be one of the mourners in such a procession. I enjoyed it. It made me felt elevated, being seen on the road by the whole neighbourhood.
“There’s no better occasion to see if one life is wasted or fulfilled other than man’s own funeral.”
I can never forget the exact moment when the undertakers sealed my grandfather’s coffin right in the living room, after everybody paid their respects. At that moment hell broke loose; my aunts wailed like there’s no tomorrow. Kids (which I then was one) were turned away for hushed into the dining room. There was only wailing.
And few hours ago I was just at some stranger’s funeral, dragged along by my parents. This young man was lying comfortably in his world. With a smile. Face swollen from his plight. He was handsome, good-looking.
“I came into the world crying when those around me rejoiced, but I hope the world rejoices when I leave the world in peace.
”But there was no wailing. Only tears. Tears of peace, joy.
If everybody gets to attend their own funeral, perhaps the world will be a better place.
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