In the midst of life we are in death.

Sorry for the morose title, but after working a difficult funeral this morning, it's fitting. Working funerals is not in my current job description, but when the Dean needs a favor, one doesn't say no. I did not know the man who died- I've never even seen him. I didn't know anything about him, like the fact that he passed away very suddenly after a struggle with cancer, until this morning.
Funerals are tough regardless, but this one today was especially difficult for me. Not because I fear my own death- let's face it, I don't even know what I'm wearing tomorrow. Moreover, I fear the deaths of those around me- namely, my parents. Again, this may seem silly, as my parents are only in their early 60's, and are both quite active and healthy. However, the funeral today celebrated the life of a man who died at 62- my father's age. And his children, who all spoke at the service, are not much older than me. In addition, my mother was only a few years older than me when both of her parents were tragically killed in a car accident. I never met my maternal grandparents. Their untimely deaths were understandably very difficult on my mother, as my brother was just a toddler. She suffered from intense inner ear problems and dizzy spells. These symptoms began when she started cleaning out her parents' home. They didn't end for a year or 2.
As I listened to the seven speakers (it was quite a lengthy service), I couldn't help but picture myself at the podium, talking about my father. I became quite upset at several points during the service, and noticed that all 350 of the people in the congregation were also visibly upset. This man must have been one helluva guy.
I hope and pray that I do not have to stand at a funeral podium any time soon. I also hope and pray that every single person in that congregation gives thanks for the family and friends they have. I know I am.
I'm gonna call my Dad.