The weekend was spent with the sadness of remembering a family member and the joy of spending time with loved ones still here. We had family from all over the country come in for a memorial service for my uncle. I hate funerals, since the loss of my father I avoid them. I remember how it felt with so many people who wanted comfort from me with the passing of Dad. I know, intellectually, that they loved him, but my feelings were raw, I was swimming through days. It kept me from processing pain and grief. Now going to funerals or memorials, I feel like a voyeur to someone else’s pain. It’s uncomfortable, wishing to say or do something to comfort and support the grief-stricken but never finding it. This last weekend was one of those times. I listened to stories about an uncle I hardly knew from children and siblings who loved him and found myself thinking about how nice it was to see some family I hadn’t seen in a while. Selfish I know, but the loss that they suffered, I already felt. I empathized with no way of helping. We went to show we care for the people still here, listening and hugging. I guess that’s what your suppose to do. The people departed are at their destination, they have discovered the answers to life, the universe and everything, but those of us left still have the joy and pain of this life, to find purpose and peace. So we went and reestablished family links that were almost forgotten, it was good to honor a passing member of our family.