They're in a better place
What is it about a funeral that fills one with an overwhelming amount of mixed emotions? You’re sad because you miss that person. You will never see them again. There’s a hole in your life where that person used to be. This emotion is only conflicted by the happiness that fills you when you think of where they are now. They feel no more pain. They have no more suffering. They’re in a better place.
After they die everything seems unreal. You feel denial. You feel pain. You feel like you’re going to see them walk through that door. Everything changes when you enter the church. You see the casket. You’re surrounded by pictures, family, friends and an excessive amount of flowers. People come up to you that you haven’t seen in years and don’t even recognize. They whisper words of encouragement. “He was such a good man.” “He’s in a better place.” “She was so nice to everyone she met.” “She’s in a better place.” That phrase is forever burned into your brain. After a while you tune them out, only taking time to nod and move on to the next person.
As you’re led to the front of the church everyone goes silent. You’re being watched by hundreds of people. You’re too scared of looking anyone in the eyes so you watch your feet as they slowly but deliberately take you up that aisle. When the ushers turn around and point you in the right direction you notice their glazed-over eyes. They do this for a living. They’ve become immune to the emotions that overtake someone at a time like this. You secretly wonder how many times they’ve worn those suits. Do they wear the same thing for every service?
The service begins and you stare off into space still waiting for them to jump out and yell “surprise!” To feel mad at them for making you go through all of this. Hoping this is all just one big joke. When they mention your name as one of the survivors you pay attention again and it really hits you for the first time. This is real. This is real. This is real.