I Attended a Funeral Service Today...

A co-worker of mine, a young lady who sat no more than ten feet from me, five days a week, separated only by the wall of a cubicle, lost her life following a tragic accident in which her husband was also killed.

In spite of having different jobs, different roles in the office, you cannot help but overhear one another's conversations, laugh at the same jokes that someone tells or as most often was the case for our over the cubicle wall conversations, share movie trivia.

I can't count the number of times that the guy sitting in the desk next to mine would start describing a scene from a movie and before I could come up with an actor's name or the title, an excited voice from next door would beat me to the answer. I didn't know her all that well, but certainly well enough to feel the need to attend her services.

Having never attended services at a "Black Church" - and I hope that isn't offensive to describe it as such - I have to tell you that I enjoyed the music, the spirit of the people and the fact that the audience participation wasn't in the form of responses read from a missalette. My funeral experiences have been primarily in the Catholic faith, and there is a certain format that can be counted upon, and quite frankly, I suspect a pre-determined one hour time limit. This program went on for much longer, but it was all heartfelt and worthwhile.

You don't have to be overly familiar with a person or their family to recognize the tragedy of their loss when what is left behind are grieving grandparents, brothers and sisters, and a little 4 year-old boy who will never really know either if his parents.

If the beautiful gospel music as the coffin was closed didn't move; and if watching the distraught parents and her brother and sister and aunts and uncles making their way into the church didn't move, then certainly, seeing this beautiful 4-year-old boy entering the church, clinging to a Senior NCO in full service dress uniform, would be enough for anybody, close friend or simply the guy from the next cubicle over, to warrant a tissue.

Tragic is the thought that comes to mind.