{"id":537,"date":"2009-09-26T11:06:10","date_gmt":"2009-09-26T15:06:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gloriacrist.com\/blog\/?p=537"},"modified":"2009-09-26T11:07:05","modified_gmt":"2009-09-26T15:07:05","slug":"now-let-us-air-it-all-out","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.gloriacrist.com\/blog\/2009\/09\/now-let-us-air-it-all-out\/","title":{"rendered":"Now Let Us Air It All Out"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>\u00a0 I recently attended a memorial service.\u00a0The service was held in a non religious venue-which did not bother me in the least.\u00a0I did not know the young man who died,tragically, and too young I might add.\u00a0I was there to be supportive of the younger sister and to pay my respects.\u00a0 In fact, I did not know much of the family history-there had been a divorce early on-but from what I knew, life went on as it does when parents divorce and families part. There were displays of pictures set up all around the room-showing a happy boy, the same grin and bright eyes,\u00a0the same look on his\u00a0face from toddler times\u00a0right up to the last photo taken of him only two weeks earlier.\u00a0 Family photos of the siblings, in happier times, celebrating holidays, milestones and independence. As people gathered in the small space upstairs and then filled in the overflow downstairs, it was obvious the young man lived a life filled with friends, each one making an angry,\u00a0puffy eyed,\u00a0tearfilled entrance- twenty somethings,many with bare-feet, layers of sustainable living wear,tattoos, piercings, mohawks, and non\u00a0vocal signs of solidarity.\u00a0Obviously, he had found his own family, and\u00a0was making a life that was unique to who he was.\u00a0And then there were the others, extended family, I guessed, entering all pulled together and somber-wearing the proper clothing one was expected to wear on a day of remembering the dead.\u00a0 There was a wave of tension-not the weary kind we all feel when\u00a0 we gather and remember someone no longer with us;but there was also the funk of a family that had been broken for a long time….and there in the front row, mom and dad, distanced even now by their other children.\u00a0 And then the service began.\u00a0 It began with a friend, playing the guitar that\u00a0had belonged to the deceased. The song was an angry series of wails and moans-off pitch and unmelodious- a coda to what was about to be unleashed on us all sitting there, being respectful-and about to witness, not a memorial but an airing of dirty family laundry.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The opening line-the very first words uttered defined the young man\u00a0as a victim of divorce, who had his heart shattered at the age of 4 and had been searching for happiness his whole (young) life.\u00a0 I was taken aback.\u00a0We heard tales of his violence, his truancy, his drug abuse, attempted suicides, his ill at ease with society and all it stands for, his lack of respect for authority,his ability to be non judgemental of others, except those he\u00a0seemed to disapprove of for whatever\u00a0his reasons were,\u00a0his love of video games, punk rock and anything that defied rules and regulation.\u00a0 We heard how hard he tried.We learned of his\u00a0disappointments and\u00a0his struggles, his ability to make others happy-and how maybe he had finally found his own.\u00a0 And then his source of new found happiness got up to speak, her newly shaved head a display at how “fucked up” this all was, her raw anger, raging out with fists pumped, bare fee stomping on the floor, her quest to squelch her own\u00a0anger and clean up all his broken glass, her resolve to make sense of it all.\u00a0 So many tears, bitter acid tears of a family and friends\u00a0so torn.\u00a0 It made me sad-to the core sad to watch this all unfold-what once must have hung so neatly on the line-now flapping all around in a wind storm.\u00a0It was tragic.\u00a0 Sadly tragic. \u00a0Here I sat watching the young life of a man I did not know, come even more unraveled after his death.\u00a0Not once during the almost two hours of a life recapped, did I hear\u00a0anyone say “I am sorry for your loss”, or even,\u00a0“I am sorry.”\u00a0 There was not one prayer of the religious kind( not that I expected it given the location) but\u00a0 not even a silent moment of healing, a thought or two for a life cut short, a wish for peace. \u00a0As the service ended and people poured out from all over, sobs ending and beginning again, I made my way to the sister, hugged her close and left-not knowing what to say. As I walked away and looked back, I swear I could almost see a cloud of misery hanging over the reception area, so beautifully adorned with white table cloths, fresh flowers and more photos of the young man\u00a0hanging out, airing out.<\/p>\n

I drove home, not sure of what I had witnessed-and very uncomfortable with what I had.\u00a0\u00a0Through out the week, thoughts, expressions, comments I observed have been flailing in the breezes of my own mind.\u00a0 While I am all for honesty and accountability and certainly for people to find ways to make amends, I am quite sure, airing out the dirty family laundry at a\u00a0memorial service is not a wash I’d like to repeat.<\/p>\n

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