by Greg Schmidt
Like many ministers around the world, I have officiated at hundreds of funerals. The most touching funeral was for a gang member. The best-looking funeral was for an exotic dancer (provided, I guess, you like that look, which my wife tells me I do). The most embarrassing funeral was the one when I fell in the grave (I’m sure that makes my parishioners proud).
Believe it or not, the saddest funerals are not the ones for young children or the parents of young children. While they are heartbreaking, it is the funerals for people who die absolutely alone which I believe are the saddest ones to lead.
A few years ago the local funeral director, Joe, called and asked me to do him a favor. It was the week before Christmas and he needed someone to lead a service for a man who died all alone in his trailer. Joe explained that the deceased seemed to have no friends, and it was an odor coming from his home that made anyone even wonder about him. There were no known relatives so in all probability it would be only the funeral director and I at the grave.
Much to our surprise, there were three other people who approached the grave when we arrived. I introduced myself to the trio and asked if they were there for the man’s funeral. They said they were. These people claimed to be his brother, his son and his daughter. I asked if any of them wanted to speak a few words since I didn’t know the deceased and had nothing to offer as a eulogy. All of them declined the invitation. They remained stoic during the service. No one showed the slightest bit of emotion.
At the conclusion of the service the woman who claimed to be his daughter approached me and asked, “How much did he leave?”
“Excuse me?” I replied.
“How much did he leave in his will? Where do I go to collect my inheritance?”
Stunned, I responded, “I have no idea. Maybe you should speak to the funeral director.”
A moment after she left me, the son approached and asked, “How long until I get my share?” Before I had a chance to answer him, I heard the deceased’s brother and daughter arguing about how the other did not deserve a penny as neither had spoken to him in years. Joe and I looked at each other, amazed at what was transpiring before us.
Being alone, distanced from family and friends is a harsh, lonely way to go through life. Maybe the greatest gift you can give to another person at this time of year is to say, “I’m sorry” or “I forgive you” or “I love you” or even “You matter to me.” Just a couple of words can change a person’s life, much more than a Playstation 360 or a fancy piece of jewelry. A few words might make the difference between a lifetime of loneliness and a lifetime with meaning. Living and dying alone is sad. I hope this does not happen to any of you. Let’s make this a season of happiness.
The Reverend Dr. Greg Schmidt is pastor of the Congregational Church of Harvard.