Today we celebrate 250 years of the United State of America, a Celebration of Life at the funeral. Family & friends gather to honor and remember, to share the funny/sad stories, to create a meaningful tribute to the lost. There will be food, drink, and fireworks.
Someone gets drunk and objects to the sweet white-washing of a history more complicated than acknowledged. Such objections are quickly quashed. The young man is escorted out by older, larger ones in suits or uniforms.
The crowd vacillates between true, wrenching grief, joyful memories held close, and fierce denial. It was glorious! The corpse in the casket was universally loved, extremely kind, generous and . . .
Some quietly, briefly meet in smaller rooms to reassure and remind each other of secret, private pain. These stories are not shared in the larger group. The failures and faults and crimes of the beloved corpse will not be discussed in the big room.
Some, my brother and myself, exchange glances, silently nodding at shared trauma. We know that hope and despair lie together in that box.
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