Oh, the feels
I'm just about done processing all of this thing I'm going to post, but it feels like I might as well document here too anyway.
A long-time family friend died on Sunday. He was almost 35 and had been sick with pancreatic cancer for four years.
This guy worked for both the volunteer fire department AND police department in a teeny little town 90 minutes from me. His funeral was held Thursday in a college auditorium, of all places.
Mom and I got to the service early and I took a picture, which I immediately felt weird about. Is it wrong to take pictures of funerals? You see them in the media all the time, but is it right? I mean, it's not like Jordan was going to care about it. That was his name, by the way. And the whole thing was on a stage, see?
To the right of...him...you see his firefighter uniform. Every seat in that auditorium was filled when the service started. The whole fire department showed up. The whole police department showed up--or those who weren't working, I assume. I doubt the town was without Johnny Law for two hours.
Jordan left a twin sister behind. What on Earth is that like? Jesus. She delivered the most heartfelt, well-worded eulogy I've ever heard. There were audible sniffles everywhere when she stepped down.
At the end of it they did his final call. It's just heartbreaking when they do that. I can't get over it. If you don't know what that is, they do it at the funerals of firefighters and police officers and probably others. Here's an example:
Basically it starts with them calling over the radio for the person multiple times, and the person doesn't respond. Then it just gets worse. Among other things (which are probably more important), it conveys "This person is absolutely gone and will never do anything ever again." And it's a huge reality check. It's completely devastating, and after Jordan's final call you could hear sobbing throughout the entire auditorium. Really, I can't think of anything more closuring than that. If that doesn't yank a mourner out of denial, I don't know what will.
It was definitely the saddest funeral I've ever attended, but I was sitting next to Mom so I certainly was NOT going to cry.
I know that's weird, but I've been making sure to not cry around my parents for many years now. So for the whole service I had to employ every trick imaginable. First I detached from the whole thing, like it was somebody else's funeral. Then when that stopped working I pretended that I was somebody else. Once that gave out I was reduced to hiding in my own head and trying to conjure up things that might balance out what was going on around me. A squirrel eating potato chips. The neighbor who sneezed hilariously at my last apartment. Walking farts. Belching the preamble of the Constitution. Why are bodily functions such a large part of this? A dog dragging its butt across someone's living room. A yeti eating spaghetti. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?...
The second Mom got out of my car and into her house I emotionally erupted. I could barely drive. Why aren't there more weep-related car accidents? Good lord. And bad lord. All the lords. But I'm doing better now. There's a lot more I could say about Jordan. The memories I have of him contain sad little pinpricks now. We spent a lot of time together as kids, and he grew into someone I admired very much. I'll always be proud of the person he got to be, even though it wasn't for nearly long enough.
That's him on the right. In front, I mean. Not the photobomber.
A long-time family friend died on Sunday. He was almost 35 and had been sick with pancreatic cancer for four years.
This guy worked for both the volunteer fire department AND police department in a teeny little town 90 minutes from me. His funeral was held Thursday in a college auditorium, of all places.
Mom and I got to the service early and I took a picture, which I immediately felt weird about. Is it wrong to take pictures of funerals? You see them in the media all the time, but is it right? I mean, it's not like Jordan was going to care about it. That was his name, by the way. And the whole thing was on a stage, see?
To the right of...him...you see his firefighter uniform. Every seat in that auditorium was filled when the service started. The whole fire department showed up. The whole police department showed up--or those who weren't working, I assume. I doubt the town was without Johnny Law for two hours.
Jordan left a twin sister behind. What on Earth is that like? Jesus. She delivered the most heartfelt, well-worded eulogy I've ever heard. There were audible sniffles everywhere when she stepped down.
At the end of it they did his final call. It's just heartbreaking when they do that. I can't get over it. If you don't know what that is, they do it at the funerals of firefighters and police officers and probably others. Here's an example:
Click to viewBasically it starts with them calling over the radio for the person multiple times, and the person doesn't respond. Then it just gets worse. Among other things (which are probably more important), it conveys "This person is absolutely gone and will never do anything ever again." And it's a huge reality check. It's completely devastating, and after Jordan's final call you could hear sobbing throughout the entire auditorium. Really, I can't think of anything more closuring than that. If that doesn't yank a mourner out of denial, I don't know what will.
It was definitely the saddest funeral I've ever attended, but I was sitting next to Mom so I certainly was NOT going to cry.
I know that's weird, but I've been making sure to not cry around my parents for many years now. So for the whole service I had to employ every trick imaginable. First I detached from the whole thing, like it was somebody else's funeral. Then when that stopped working I pretended that I was somebody else. Once that gave out I was reduced to hiding in my own head and trying to conjure up things that might balance out what was going on around me. A squirrel eating potato chips. The neighbor who sneezed hilariously at my last apartment. Walking farts. Belching the preamble of the Constitution. Why are bodily functions such a large part of this? A dog dragging its butt across someone's living room. A yeti eating spaghetti. Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?...
The second Mom got out of my car and into her house I emotionally erupted. I could barely drive. Why aren't there more weep-related car accidents? Good lord. And bad lord. All the lords. But I'm doing better now. There's a lot more I could say about Jordan. The memories I have of him contain sad little pinpricks now. We spent a lot of time together as kids, and he grew into someone I admired very much. I'll always be proud of the person he got to be, even though it wasn't for nearly long enough.
That's him on the right. In front, I mean. Not the photobomber.