Funeral Processions

Funeral. If you break that word up you are looking at the words "real" and "fun." Ironic, eh?

So I'd been feeling a bit down lately, things just weren't going the way I wanted them to go and this morning I was like, "Buck up, kiddo! Go make some good things happen for yourself!" So I got out the flight voucher I'd been holding onto for a year and made a flight to New York for tomorrow to spend a couple days with one of my best friends. I started doing laundry and running errands, getting everything squared away for my trip. I needed one more stop at the grocery store to make sure Lambert had everything he would need while I was gone, including a new squeaky squirrel. So there we were, Lambert and myself, enjoying the sunshine, singing to the radio, thinking about how lucky I was to have so many amazing friends in such lovely places to visit when we see the police car with its lights on coming in the other lane. Following suit, we pulled over to wait for the funeral procession to pass. As I sat there watching the cars with their dark sunglassed passengers slowly follow their loved one down Patton Avenue my face when quickly from smile to frown. Unfortunately, I wasn't frowning because I was sad for their loss, trying to sympathize, nothing like that. It was just that this unknown person's last moment in the sun had just made me feel like such a jerk for my silly, simple, newly inspired happiness. I mean, don't get me wrong, I respect the tradition and I am sorry for the loss of this person. I suppose I will even want my last bit of attention when I go but really...it is just kind of a good juju crusher. Everyone is just pulled over on the side of the road and for a variety of reasons the only thing they can think to themselves right now is "damn."

Like all things, including that person and the mild traffic back-up their grieving had caused, that feeling did pass. When we got home, Lambert and I went outside to break in the squirrel toy and finally decided that there wasn't a whole lot that we could do about everyone else and together we slipped squeakily back into our silly, simple happiness. Rest in peace, our traffic clogging friend.