Dealing with death

While I was going to school, I was aware that a couple of fellow students had perished. I didn't really know them except as faces in the hallway, so I wasn't really affected by their sudden lack of presence.

One Sunday evening, my Mom told me she had gotten a phone call that one of my friends had died riding his motorcycle. I guess he got hit by a truck. I was stunned. I didn't know what to think. I went to my room and all sorts of thoughts went running through my head. I thought about how he was trying to get somewhere and the person in the truck was trying to get somewhere, and how my friend was never going to get where he wanted, but the person in the truck would likely get to arrive at his planned destination. I was not angry at the person in the truck, because I didn't know who was at fault. (I actually never did find out.)

I thought I was only one of a few students who knew about it, but when I got to school the next day, everyone was talking about him. He was one of my classmates for first period English and when I went into the classroom, I saw my English teacher talking to another teacher. While I couldn't hear the conversation, I could tell by the look on her face that she was being given the news for the first time.

Two days later, the funeral was held. Students were permitted to leave school to go to the funeral. My father took my brother and me out of school. The funeral was being held at his church. After picking up my brother, we drove by the only funeral home in town. There were two of my classmates waiting outside. Apparently, they thought the funeral was there. We offered them a ride to the church.

We were seated for about 10 minutes before the services began. The family members were ushered in. I remember one woman crying and screaming out loud. I was rather disturbed by this showcase of emotion because I certainly wasn't feeling anywhere near that bad. I wondered if I was supposed to be acting like that. No one else was, so I figured not.

I don't remember anything said during the service. We eached walked by his casket and then went outside to watch the pallbearers move the casket into the Hearse. We became part of the funeral procession and slowly made our way out to the cemetary. This was all new to me. I really didn't know what to think of it. I was really confused as to why we had to go to the gravesite since the services were held at the church. Whenever I saw funerals on TV, everything took place in the graveyard. I would later realize that this was the pattern for virtually all funerals.

I would also discover that this would be the beginning of my own pattern for attending funerals. I've never shed a tear at funerals, not even at those of close family members. That probably has something to do with my possible Asperger's in that I just emotionally detach myself from these situations. However, I should note that I always see Loyd get choked up at those funerals. I don't know how I'll be at the funerals of my parents or my brother, but I can wait to find out.

UPDATE (07/11/17): My father and his wife passed away in October of 2016. However, I will be writing about that experience in a blog post way in the future.