Today was a good friend's mom's funeral. The funeral was very different, very funny, very Baptist, and very moving. Ultimately, it seemed to celebrate the life lived and comfort those left behind. I never know exactly how to act at a funeral - but at least I was sober. At the visitation I had imbibed a glass of cheap-ass wine and was saying things backward and sweating a lot. Still, my presence seemed to cheer and was particularly enjoyed by the youngster of the grieveing party, who is my daughter's friend. I really would do just about anything for these folks.

One starts to wonder - when will my funeral occur? When will I next have to attend a funeral? When will I be the one grieving? I have an obsessive habit of worrying about leaving my loved ones behind and of losing them so I wonder a lot. Funerals exacerbate my condition, but they also give me a sense of ease, too. The ceremony of it all is comforting and there is a great tradition in honoring the dead, much as we honor a birth or a marriage. For all my mixed feelings about church, there is certainly a feeling of importance and worth when a funeral is held in a sanctuary. I assume I will want to be remembered in a church service. With quirks, but a church service nonetheless.