Gray Day

 

It was a gray, dreary day today. From time to time there was a bit of rain, but insufficient to deem it a rainy day. Just a gray day. A dreary day.

On our calendar was a funeral. A funeral for a man we barely knew. A man we had met only once. A man who was married to a woman I love.

And a gray day seemed like a good day for a funeral.

We put on clothing we hadn't reached for in a very long time. Sighs of relief that everything still fit. And off we drove through the quiet of rural Bucks County, not talking much, holding hands in the car.

The parking lot didn't have a lot of empty spaces. We arrived earlier than we'd anticipated so we sat for a little while and watched while people came and went to and from the calling hour. Then it was time to go in. But I didn't want to. Once you go inside to the funeral, it's real. Up until then it's not real; it's like you've found yourself in a play you didn't audition for and you're doing really well ad-libbing the lines that seem right. You're doing your part. But then you have to go inside and it's real. 

We found our friend and the hug lasted a long time. There was nothing to say, just a hug. She spoke at the funeral, spoke of her love for her man, her family. Her daughters spoke; they were as dear as I'd anticipated they'd be. When he saw and seemed to understand what was going on, the grandson, a pre-schooler, asked for the microphone and spoke clearly and lovingly about his grandfather. 

Others spoke with admiration and affection for our friend's man. We listened and learned. And we quietly and separately thought about how one day, one gray day, people will speak about each of us. We wondered about what they would say.

A luncheon had been planned and we were invited. But it felt to us as though that luncheon was for those who had known this man long and well, and who had known each other. We had the last of the New Year's soup at home and it seemed like a good day for soup. So we drove home, reflecting on the man's life, and confessing to each other what we'd wondered. We ate our soup and then pulled up our quilts for a good, long nap.

It was a gray and dreary day, but a good day for a funeral, for soup, and for a nap. We did all three.