Afterward

2 It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, since that is the end of all mankind, and the living should take it to heart. Ecclesiastes 7:2

A distinct quiet settles after a funeral.

I walk back to my car, shut the door, and sit there for a minute. Sometimes I don't even know what to say. Someone's life was real. They were here, and now they are gone. Someday somebody will sit in a parking lot after mine.

The Teacher says there is something better about the house of mourning. I don't think he means grief feels better. He means it tells the truth in a way we usually spend our days avoiding. This is the end of all mankind, he says, and the living should take it to heart. For a few minutes after a funeral, I usually do.

The things waiting on my phone are still there. Whatever I was worried about before the service hasn't disappeared. But death has a way of putting things in perspective. I am alive today, but my days here are numbered. Today is a gift, not something I am owed.

Maybe taking death to heart does not mean figuring out what to do with it. Maybe it means letting it tell the truth long enough that I receive my life differently.

Then I start the car and go home.

Father, my days are in Your hands. Teach me to receive the life You have given me, to live it with You.