I spent the morning in a little church, in a little town about 90 minutes from here. Not where I wanted to spend my morning, but I was happy to do it. In the end, I was glad that I did it.
One of the Dry Riders died Sunday. He fought the fight that so many seem to fight - cancer. While his fight was good, it is over. His wish was to have as many bikes at his funeral as possible. So I worked late Tuesday night and I'm working later tonight and I'll work late Thursday.
I sat in the pew of that beautiful little Catholic Church and watched as friends and family surrounded him. I listed the priest speak of him and his wife and their journey. I couldn't help but silently think that part of my journey was to attend this funeral. Part of my journey was to be called back into the matters of faith. So I prayed to God and hope he listened. I prayed for the family who has one less memeber, the friends who will miss him and for myself. I felt comforted in the little beautiful church.
Afterwards several of us talked about what we wanted for funerals. One wanted a huge upbeat party, no quiet funeral. I know what Pete wants because we've talked about it in all our long talks by the lake at our favorite place. Then someone asked me what I wanted and I realized that I didn't know. It's not that I don't know what I want, it's that I'm stuck between what I think I want and what the Church says is proper. The more that I think about it I realize that funerals are for the living, not the dead. Therefore I want what will make those left behind comforted.