Rant #1,527: Life ... and Death

One thing that is guaranteed in life is that once we are born, we all have expiration dates.

We are all going to die sooner or later, some sooner than others, others later than others.

There is no way of predicting when we will leave this earth.

Two somewhat celebrities just passed during the past few days--Billy Joe Royal, a singer who amassed several big hits, including "Cherry Hill Park" and "I Knew You When," and Neal Walk, the burly center who played for several NBA teams, including the Phoenix Suns and the New York Knicks.

But really, what I want to talk about today is the "average Joe" and when he or she passes.

I was just alerted that a friend of the family's father has just passed, and although I have been on the outs with the person in recent months, the doesn't mean that I will totally ignore this death to the family.

I bought a condolence card yesterday after work, will mail it out, and although these things don't allay the grief the person is feeling at this moment, it does tell the person that I acknowledge that person's suffering during this period of time.

There will be a funeral--which I will not go to--and I am sure, since the person was Jewish, that the family will be sitting shiva. Shiva is usually a week-long acknowledgment of the death by the immediate family, and usually friends and relatives stop by wherever shiva is being held to pay their respects to both the person who has died and the family that is grieving.

I have been to shivas, and I have been to shivas. Some are very solemn. You show your respect by coming, and there is usually some food and refreshments. The immediate family sits on boxes and covers over mirrors, which serves to exemplify the grief that they are feeling.

This is how most shivas I have been to have been. The worst one I ever went to was one where the person being mourned committed suicide, a young man with all the promise in the world who could simply not handle life. I went with my mother, and the grief was as thick as mud there. We paid our respects, and left, and I must say it was not a minute too soon.

Looking back, that is probably why I have no patience for those who kill themselves. What it does to the immediate family is devestating.

On the other hand, I went to another shiva where you would swear that you were in an amusement park. The person who passed demanded, in his last request, that everyone have a good time at his shiva, that there be no mourning at all.

Well, I never saw a shiva like it. The house was filled to the gills with people, there was loud music playing in the background, people were playing video games and watching TV, and it was just like a real party, with absolutely no mourning shown, although I am sure that privately, the family grieved.

Me, when my time comes, I want something in the middle of all that, leaning toward the fun type of remembrance.

We are honoring a life, and although mourning is certainly acceptable, I don't want people dwelling on the negative, I want there to be positives, too.

No, I would prefer that people didn't swim in my pool during my shiva--yes, they did at the one I just told you about--but if it is lighthearted, with a heavy heart, that is pretty much what I want.

At both my grandfathers' respective funerals, I made speeches, and I told anecdotes that I thought really captured the person as I knew him, from my perspective as a grandchild. The remembrances just happened to be funny, and even those crying cracked a smile--which was my intent.

That is what I want at my funeral and at my shiva. I guess I am putting in a very early order for it.

But hopefully, nobody will have to think about that for years and years and years.

To the current person I am paying a tribute to, and directly to the person's family, I wish you the best during this very trying time. Keep in mind the good things that that person left you with--the good memories--and that person will never really die.

And pass the memories onto the next generation, and the generation after that.

The person might not be here physically, but his memory will last forever.