A Funeral

I tend to write obscurely, if at all, about family. They shouldn't have to fear they will show up here. But going to a funeral is bound to provoke feelings and I think they are legitimate here. When I got married, I became the brother-in-law of Sylvia's daughter and so I came into Sylvia's sphere. There are certain people who make everyone they come into contact with feel like they are very special people. Sylvia was one of those people. She was always interested in what we were doing, always making sure I wasn't hungry, and offering to share something from her garden. She listened so that you talked. Whenever we came to LA we were always very busy, but Sylvia was one of the few people we always tried to visit. And I got an hour with her and Mose when I was here in June.

I'm sure there are lots of funerals where at least a few people are thinking "good riddance." But I doubt anyone felt that way about Sylvia. She was 94 when she died Tuesday. No one's complaining her life was too short. She served with the Red Cross in Africa during World War II and had two masters degrees and was a psychiatric social worker by profession. She touched many, many people's lives. She also was fortunate to travel the world. We were fortunate to be able to receive her and Mose when we were on sabbatical in Hong Kong and also a couple of times in Anchorage. J and I stayed at her house when our son was born and our newly bought house was being cleaned up and repainted. When we had several cars in a row stolen while I was a grad student, she gave us her old dodge dart to use. We have so many good memories. She had a good, long life and a number of people spoke about her this afternoon.


After the service in the chapel, there was a brief graveside service. Everyone was instructed to get into their cars. We asked if we couldn't walk and were pointed to a tent less than a quarter mile away. I know there was one gentleman there today whose 100th birthday is in January who really did need a ride to the graveside. (Though I did whisper to his wife that she couldn't sit in the chairs because they were reserved for the elderly and she immediately jumped up and said, oh I can't sit here then.) But it seems in these days of growing environmental awareness, the Memorial Park could encourage most people to walk.


We got to the grave in about 4 minutes, well ahead of the cars. A wind picked up and it was almost chilly. The service was very short.

J and our niece and I also went to visit the graves of J's parents (our niece's grandparents) and my brother and others there.




And then we went to a reception at a very nearby hotel. At the last funeral I was at among this generation - my mother-in-law's - we returned to someone's house and had food that everyone had prepared. But that was over ten years ago. People have aged and all of my generation live out of town. And so the gathering was at a hotel and all the normal home cooked food was replaced with institutional food. But the company was good and people we hadn't seen for a while and others in Sylvia's sphere that we sort of knew and certainly had heard of became real as we reconnected.

And I was inspired by all the remembrances of Sylvia to try to live my life as fully and as generously as possible.