For a funeral service, it wasn't a very mournful affair. She had had health problems for a long time, and people had been expecting something to happen to my Aunt for a while. It was a bit sudden, in that she fell down and died, as though she had a heart attack or stroke while walking some place. But she had a heart valve replaced over a decade ago, and she needed a walker to move around, and more recently she had lost control of her bladder and had to wear a diaper. So, it was sad, but it had been sad for a while. Like I said, my mother called it a relief.

The ceremony itself, of course was very religious, and I found myself irritated at times about how much it was about God's importance instead of my Aunt's importance. Her siblings though probably took comfort from the idea that she was in heaven, and that in the next few decades they would be joining her. My uncle is a couple years younger and had a stroke last year, my mother is four years younger and is okay now, but had that scare with cancer last year. My other aunt and uncle are okay, but my other aunt's husband has serious heart problems. So sitting there, we all kind of knew that this was the first in what would be a line of upcoming funerals.

It was an opportunity to see my cousins and their children. It's amazing how much we all resemble our parents. There were lots of little toddlers running around, and from their faces, I could figure out both who their parents were, but also their grandparents. At a funeral, it was reminder of a source of immortality that even I as an atheist recognize.

It was my first time looking at a hymnal in years, and the piano training I gave myself a few years ago made it easy for me to follow the hymns, changing my voice and holding notes as I followed along. I've never been able to do that before.

My uncle, the former priest, said a few nice things about my aunt. He commented about how she like to write handwritten letters. He would talk with her on the phone and she would get nervous about the long distance bill (which used to be a much bigger deal), and she would stop and say "look, this is costing a lot of money. I'll write you a letter." And she would. There is something nice about a written letter, and especially a handwritten letter. It takes longer, it's more permanent, and it's not only the words, but the script that speak of the person.

So my uncle suggested that everyone there write three handwritten letters. A first letter to themselves, telling themselves about their own positive qualities. A second letter should go to someone like my aunt, someone who was lonely and perhaps not well liked, someone who might appreciate a letter saying positive things about them. A third letter should go to a family member, someone who we have hurt in the past or who we feel hurt towards.

I think I'm going to write those letters.

(Incidently, my uncle's grand daughter Fiona came up with him while he gave his talk. She's about a year and a half old and has gorgeous red hair, and she wandered around the podium while he talked, and was absolutely a doll.)