I spent much of Sunday at funeral activities for the father of a dear friend. First, an open house breakfast at their home, then a memorial service at the funeral home.
Two speakers eulogized their friend of 50 years, plus various family members.
Whatever can be said about other than vignettes and hyperbole? Are there any words that sum up a man's life? There are attempts to bridge this concern, but an hour -- two, three, five hours -- are never enough. The best speaker can only touch our hearts and remind us of some of what he was. For me, I only knew the man's daughter. He was 68, and she is now 45.
Death is not a metaphor. Something living is now not living. Whether spiritual or physical, death is absolute. I cannot raise the dead. I can only look upon the body and wonder.