Mourning

I attended a funeral service for a cowork of mine from the bank yesterday. She was in her early fifties, I think. Smoked and drank daily and had a stroke. I have a sense of admiration for her, because she lived her life the way she wanted right up to the end.

The church was packed. So was the hall where they had video feeds. So was the walkway outside. Now, the church and the hall weren't all that large, but still... I'd say there were at least 150 people there. I can't imagine having so many friends and family... I think that must have made her happy.

I'm not much for crying; it's not that I think it's unmanly or anything. It's just that at this stage of my life, I don't see much reason for it. Rather than cry over a loss, or a pain, I try to be grateful and appreciative of the life, or the experience. Nevertheless, when her kids came out of church, I couldn't help but tear up a little bit. They're 19, 17, and 13 I think. 13 and having to attend your mother's funeral... who wouldn't cry at that thought?

She wasn't the hardest-working coworker I've ever had, but she was by far among the most fun-loving. I firmly believe that she's in heaven. She brought so much happiness to so many people in her life, I can't fathom that she hasn't earned her own. RIP Carol; you'll be missed.