Before today, I never understood the tradition of the
funeral. Today, I needed the closure that only attending Brad’s funeral and
seeing his body could give me.
All week, I have had a deep, penetrating need to know that he
is okay and that he knows I loved him and that we are okay.
There was never a doubt in my mind about the state of his
soul, but until today, I could not have explained my need any better than this.
Brad and I have always had this psychic connection. I hate
to use that word because I don’t believe in that hocus pocus and that’s not
exactly what it was, but that is the best way I know to describe it. It was
this pull that no matter how much time lapsed between us or how bad things ever
got between us, no matter that we've been divorced almost 10 years and he's been happily remarried half of that time, there was always this something, this unexplained connection. He was
always just kind of with me. I suppose that’s why I was never able to fully
move on.
After his death, I lost that connection. I couldn’t feel him
at all and that is what troubled me. How could I know if he was okay if I could
no longer feel him?
I know it sounds kooky, but every time a loved one has died,
I have received some kind of indication that they were thriving. It gave me
peace. Until I received the same from Brad, I could get no peace, no matter
what I believed about the afterlife and his salvation.
The funeral made me feel better – hearing confirmation from
loved ones about some of their last conversations with him about his soul and
the afterlife. Ira made me smile picturing Brad being different in heaven. The
overwhelming love from his family and wife were balm. I said goodbye to his
body and gave him one last kiss goodbye, but still, I could not feel him.
On the way home, I pulled into a drive thru and then my
window would not roll all the way back up. At first I was annoyed, but then
came to think of it as God’s way of telling me to turn off the radio and drive
in silence. So, I did just that.
As I reflected on the funeral and all my good memories of
Brad, I could picture him as Ira described him and I could glimpse his smile
and the gleam in his eyes. I knew he was okay. Still, I was sad that I had not
actually felt him. I consoled myself thinking that he had to be enjoying his
party still and comforting his immediate family as he should. I knew he loved
me and I knew he knew I loved him. I knew all was right between us and I knew
he was okay. That needed to be enough.
Further on down the road, I felt him. It lasted less than a
split second, but there is no mistaking the feeling. I felt him and he was
happy. I felt his joy and I knew I would be okay, too.
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