Life and Death

The memorial service last night reminded me of how death can bring the living together, not that that is a new or original thought. But it was much less sad than Michella's; Herb was 90 years old, he kept working and stayed mentally alert until the end, and he lived a full life. He and Ruth were together for 56 years, and he loved her and his two children dearly. The room was packed last night; it was not a very big room and lots of people were there. We saw a lot of people we've not seen since UUCM closed its doors and some we haven't seen in a year or two, and it felt a lot like a family reunion. Herb would have loved it. But I thought, as people do at these things, that it's interesting that so many times it takes a death to bring us all together, even more than joyous occasions like weddings, births, and graduations.

And these meetings are made more memorable, too, I suppose, by the realization that our days are numbered. In fact, it is knowing that it doesn't last that gives life much of its sweetness. I think the reason that teens and young adults commit suicide so often is that to them, life seems endless, and they think it will just go on and on. When you're old enough to know that that is not true, you savor life and seeing your friends and everything else more.

I was glad, again, yesterday, that UU's are huggy people. It was easy to tell the people who came from Herb's work from the UUs. We were the ones hugging. They were all very nice people, but I grew up among people who didn't indulge in public hugging, and I found it odd, at first, although I liked it. Now, it feels natural to greet a friend with a hug, and I'm glad we can share those moments of affection in that natural way.

At any rate, Herb's memorial service turned out to be a positive experience, and I'm glad we went. If we all got to make it to 90 intact, death would be so much easier to deal with.