The wake and service

The wake was held Monday, 9-15-08. (1-4pm & 7-9pm)

It was a closed casket ceremony which selfishly and for my own comfort level, I prefer.

It's was a very long day. I'm sure much more so for the family. Sometimes these things can be a bit strange. You tend to meet relatives you never knew existed, or the one's you'd intentionally avoid if not for the necessity of the event. And then there are all the rest. the people you'd only see at major events. Births, deaths, graduations, weddings, holidays, if at all.

At the wake I reconnected with a few old neighbors, and people who seemed to know me, and for the life of me, I can't recall. I've become an expert at the nod and smile. Acting through veiled confidence as though I know them well. I ask them general questions, hoping their answers will spark a memory or recollection to end the clueless charade, and solve the mystery. I know I'm not the only one who does this. If you practice really hard boys and girls, you can become a well honed pro like me.

The evening wake usually tends to draw more of a crowd, as most folks obviously have to work during the day. I never liked wakes, (who does?) But I understand the need for them. In this case however, I didn't need to question my being there. It was an absolute honor to be there to show my love, and pay my respects. I loved and respected Mrs. Shropshire very much.

I never knew how to act at these things. Should you be solemn and sad, or smile attempting to appear happy. Although I tend to emote from the first category, I strive for a delicate balance of the two. In the past I would get annoyed when someone was smiling or joking while attending a wake. It seemed disrespectful. As I got older and no wiser, I believed these events; These rituals; were meant to help heal. To celebrate the person's life. Not to dwell on their death. There would no doubt be plenty of time for that later. A wake is a distraction. You're surrounded by loved ones and familiar faces. Being comforted by those you care for, and that care for you in turn. Eventually you find yourself alone. That seems to be the worst time. Your alone with your thoughts. That's when you can feel overwhelmingly empty, lonely, and easily overcome with despair. It does get easier with time. Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it can give you clarity and perspective, as well as Strength to cope better then you could have initially.

I've certainly had my share of loss. Not all of it through death, although the feelings can be very similar. I don't claim to have had more or less than others. All I know is it's my loss. As far as other people's loses are concerned, I can only do my best to sympathize and empathise. These are wonderful, yet at times, heart breaking gifts bestowed to me by my mother. People can try their best to identify with the grieving, especially after having suffered a similar loss. However, every body's loss is different. I can't even begin to know the way someone else feels about their particular loss. These are my feelings, and my intention was to relate them to the matter at hand. Perhaps a bit scatter shot and roundabout, but I hope I was able to covey them in a way you are able to understand.

Back to the wake. To make a difficult time, well more difficult, I saw a familiar face approaching out of the corner of my eye. It was my twin brother Jon. I knew I'd have to deal with seeing him the next day at the service, along with my sister Kathy, but certainly didn't expect to see him that night. you see, I've not seen, nor really spoken to Jon or Kathy for several years. It's a long boring story that I won't get into. The two people reading this know it already. Fortunately, I was among many people to help distract me from many confusing thoughts and emotions.

The service the next day was quite beautiful despite all the mixed emotions, mostly sad, that filled the room. There were several speakers, all very touching. However, there was one in particular that made the biggest impression on me. I can't recall her name, but she represented the Hospice center where Mrs. Shropshire spent her last remaining months. Her title was something like "spiritual adviser", or something of that sort. All I know is; she wasn't a priest, minister, pastor, rabbi, or fortune teller.

She was honest and admitted not knowing Mrs. Shropshire very well, although she spoke of how they bonded and connected instantly. Apparently this woman became very important to Mrs. Shropshire. For that reason alone I liked her. She was a dynamic and sincere speaker. Although she spoke of many things, she read two passages from the bible. Although not uncommon, they seemed to touch most everyone in the room. Mrs. Shropshire to my recollection, was not a very "religious" person, however the passage's seemed appropriate, seemingly resonating with those in attendance. I'd like to share them. I apologize for surly taking them out of context, and for heavily paraphrasing.




To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun. A time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill and a time to heal... a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance... a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to lose and a time to seek; a time to rend and a time to sew; a time to keep silent and a time to speak; a time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace.

-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8



Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous. It does not seek envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves. although faith, hope, love, should abide, the greatest of these three are love.

-1 Corinthians 13:4-7


I believe this to be perfect love. God's love. I'd very much like to actually meet someone who is capable of this, if they exist. If you know of such a person, please introduce me. As unobtainable as perfect love seems to be, we should never lose sight of it, nor stop trying to get it right.

From what I understand, Mrs. Shropshire is to be interred at the cemetery next to where I reside. I very much look forward to having her as my neighbor.