There is time to pause when coming upon a funeral procession.
Waiting in your own vehicle, the steady steam of little purple flags and highbeams and hazards passing you by. It’s a moment to reflect.
Music gets turned down when I come upon a funeral procession. I might be on my way to get groceries. Or to a class. Or to a meeting. For me, I’m going about a standard day. For them, they are bringing a loved one to rest. My morning’s agenda will bleed into the afternoon’s without much thought. I will forget most of what I do that morning, none of it really lingering. Their morning’s agenda will signal the start of something irrevocably different.
The funeral procession is universal. It spans cultures, countries, centuries & millennia. Somehow we have all banded together in this collective ritual. By foot, by horse, by carriage, by hearse. To the pyre, the temple, the gravesite. We travel single file to lay the dead to rest.
This morning, I’m on the other side. Now I’m the one in the procession, watching the cars that have to wait at intersections and streetlights. I stare at the drivers, the passengers. I see exhausted, impatient faces. Are any of them reflecting? Any taking that moment to pause? Will any of them go to the grocery store or the gym or work with a little more reverence? Continue reading