Monday 20 February 2012

Death Becomes Her

I caught the train by myself yesterday to visit some friends and my god, was it exciting. Childless, I could sit quietly, look out the window and daydream. The friends bit was great too but the train journey - I could do that forever.

It was a beautiful sunny day with clear blue skies and crisp city air. I had on pink lipstick. Life was good. So naturally I started thinking about death.

My husband thinks I am obsessed. Just that morning I had dramatically announced,  I could quite happily die now. I would be ok with that.

He rolled his eyes. You just have a chest infection, You won't die that easy.

That's not my point, I replied. What I mean is that if I were to die now, I would be ok with what I have done with my life so far.

By this time he had found something more interesting to do such as pick lint off the living room floor.

I have written about death here before. I wrote about it when a close friend was diagnosed with cancer. Back then I was reflecting on what I would do to help him stave off death. On the train yesterday I was thinking about attending his funeral.

It occured to me that the measure of a relationship is whether you would attend somebody's funeral. Especially if it were difficult for you to do so. I have friends scattered all over the globe and I wonder if they died, would I attend their funeral? Would they attend mine?

Not Your Usual Funeral*

I think it's a handy marker for where your friendships are at. Family deaths rank in another category; it's not usually a question whether you would attend or not unless rancor had reigned for too long.

Who would you make the effort to go say goodbye to? If you had no money and couldn't get time off work? Which friends would you still go for?



*Pic - "Elisha Mitchells' Funeral" by Ian Brownlee