The Funeral was Lovely

When I was a young mother I disagreed with my neighbour's practice of taking her children to funerals. I have since changed my mind.
The funeral we attended on the weekend was lovely. The guest of honor was beautiful. She had chosen her own going away outfit, her daughters had arranged her hair, and her face bore no marks of pain. There was nothing to be repelled by, or frightened of. Au contraire, she looked better than she had in years.
The priest said traditional, comforting things. There were tears and laughter and much saying of nice things. There was a terrific turnout:  youngish, middle aged, old, oxygen-toting nursing home residents, family et al. There was lunch.
There were children at the funeral; I applaud their parents' decision to bring them along. After all, the deceased had had a special relationship to the family and it was time to say goodbye.
If a kid is old enough to watch murder and mayhem on TV and play shoot 'em up video games then that same kid is old enough to learn to say 'farewell' properly. The deceased is not going to arise to do it all over again for "Take two!" This is death for real. Children need to learn that 'The Circle of Life' isn't just a song by Elton John.
The rest of us, too, need to be reminded that there is nothing grotesque or macabre about dying. The actual death, itself, may not always be kind and gentle, but the last act of our being with our loved ones is suitable for younger audiences, despite what some people may think.

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