Funeral for a Friend

Saturday I attended a funeral. Being an anti-social creature these days, I rarely attend such community events, but I had to go to say goodbye.

The deceased was a friend of mine from the San Bernardino Public Defender’s Office. He was a genial and funny fellow, a good lawyer, a caring PD. He was ten years younger than me.

He left a young wife and a three-year-old child. He had a heart attack during the work day and, instead of going to the hospital, he just went home. At least his last hours were spent among those he loved.

When I attend a funeral–and this gentleman filled the room with friends and colleagues–I always wonder briefly about how many people will show up when it’s me up there as the guest of honor. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to fill up a room, unless my funeral is held in a closet.

But the good thing is, when you’re dead, you don’t care who shows to your final rites. My father, who seemed to have hundreds of good friends during his lifetime (including some celebrities) had six people show for his last rites at the VA cemetery in Dixon, California. I think part of it was that he lived his last 30 years in Mariposa, some 100 miles from the VA cemetery.

Similarly, my mother was a good, strong person who raised 4 children on her own. But one of those children–my younger sister–didn’t show for the funeral.

So. You can’t tell. There are some in this world that had thousands show for the final goodbye. There are some who had no one. I think it has little to do with what a good person you are and a lot to do about when you die.

Had I passed this mortal coil when I was a Public Defender, I could be sure that many of my collegues would show. Now, that I’ve been solo for a while, I’m pretty sure that about six people will show.

But you know what? I won’t care. I’ll be somewhere else, completely.

As is my friend. Godspeed, Jimmy. May flights of angels sing you to your rest.