Incredible Threads

Fred passed away this week, at the age of 84. He’d had lung cancer, so it wasn’t a big surprise, but still…

Of course I hadn’t known Fred all his life, or even for all of mine. I probably met him about 15 years ago. He was a decorated war veteran. I never knew that about him. He was one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. I don’t have a single memory of Fred in which he doesn’t have a smile on his face. He was one of those people who always seemed happy to see you, whether you were a close family member or nodding acquaintance. I was fortunate to have met Fred, and I’ll miss him.

I went to Fred’s wake. I went with some trepidation, because the wake was in his house. I know this is the way people used to do it, but having never been to one before I was a little unsure of the procedure. I needn’t have worried. What I found was a house packed-and I mean packed-with friends and family. Everywhere, inside, in the back, spilling out into the driveway, were knots of people talking, catching up, children running between, and there was Fred in the front room, laid out very thoughtfully without a coffin, surrounded by it all. I expected to be a little creeped out, I’ll be honest. But I wasn’t. It was the most respectful, natural thing that could have been done. As I had showed up toward the end of the wake, I was there for the ceremony; prayers were said and the eulogy given by Fred’s nieces, songs were sung to honor him (Fred was a member of the Pequot tribe), and another prayer eloquently given by his young grandnephew (I believe Sherente is 9, I can’t quite remember) and the feeling that death is a natural part of life was prevalent—and comforting, more so than any wake I’ve ever been to in a funeral home.

I came away from the wake with a certainty that what I’ve always believed was right all along; please, friends and family, do this for me. Don’t gather in a stuffy, formal funeral home. Get together in familiar surroundings, enjoy each other’s company, laugh and talk and don’t be quiet and solemn. Have a party. For real. Be thankful for the gift of each other and for me while I was here.

Goodbye Fred. And thank you.