Salam

I don't think you have to wear black to funerals anymore.  The lady at the other end of my pew wore a light pink suit.  And a girl a few rows up wore a purple and green marbled blouse that reminded me of the hand marbled sheets and curtains at a hotel I stayed at in Istanbul.  (The sole reason I picked the hotel.)  Anyway, when the time comes again, I'll have to consider whether or not I'll wear black and I'll think a bit about my accessories, too.

I went to the funeral alone.  I sat alone.  I stood up alone.  I sat back down alone. And then I stood up alone again. I didn't kneel alone or respond alone or take Communion alone.  Those things I just watched with fascination.  Unfortunately, this funeral didn't seem much different than a Catholic wedding.  I never know what I'm supposed to be doing at a wedding and when I'm supposed to be doing it and my mind ALWAYS wanders to whether or not the other people are even aware of what they're doing or if they're just doing it because they've been doing it since they were 7 years old.  So, I miss half of the wedding or the funeral because I'm absorbed in my own little world of Catholic confusion.

And I'm not the only one.  I was telling a friend this story and she told me that she knew someone that had fainted at a Catholic funeral.  The person went to the doctor and had some tests done.  And then came some questions.  Where were you?  At a funeral.  Was it Catholic?  Yes, but what do you mean was it Catholic?  Does it matter what kind of funeral I fainted at?  And the doctor told her that she wasn't the first person to come in and say that she'd fainted at a Catholic funeral.  Some of us just can't handle all of the ups and downs.

Back to the funeral.  I knew the part was coming when we were supposed to hold hands with the people next to us. At least I thought I knew it was coming.   But, like I said, I was alone and I was sitting at the end of a pew alone.  Do you walk down to the other end of the pew to hold the stranger's hand?  Do you piggy-back with the group of three in the pew in front of you? I noticed some other loners holding their hands out to their sides as though they were holding imaginary hands.  I didn't do that. 

Miraculously (haha) I remembered that not much later we'd all be shaking hands and saying, "Peace be with you."  Now, this doesn't really even have to be religious, does it?  Shouldn't I just be able to do this part?  Don't I wish peace to others?  Of course I do.  And it's awfully nice to have it wished on me right now.  But, the first guy didn't say, "Peace be with you."  He just took both of my hands in his and said, "Hi."  Just hi.  It cracked me up because I was so ready for the "Peace be with you."  Does that mean he noticed that I wasn't kneeling and responding and taking Communion?  Wasn't that nice of him to just give me a friendly hi because he probably thought I wouldn't know that I was supposed to respond with, "And also with you."  Or no.  Wait a minute.  Maybe this isn't when you're supposed to say that.  Maybe that's more of a group response.  Anyway, I appreciated the fact that the kind man spared me the embarrassment and  I just said hi back.

But, as he took my hands I looked down at my bracelets and panicked.  I was wearing the religious bracelet I'd bought for $1 at Usatoland in Italy.  It's a bunch of little rectangles of wood with a bunch of little black and white pictures decoupaged on them. Pictures of saints and other important Catholic people.  (I don't know what they call the other important Catholic people and it doesn't seem like they would have been Popes.  Let's just stick with important Catholic people.) How could a girl wearing this bracelet not know what to do at a Catholic funeral?   Did it signify that I was a devout Catholic?  Why did I buy this bracelet if I'd had no idea what it meant?  I guess I just like cool bracelets.  Especially cool bracelets that only cost $1 at a second-hand store in Italy. 

75 minutes later the funeral ended.  We walked out in an orderly fashion pew by pew.  As we got to the entry corridor, the queue took a turn.  It passed the little fountain with holy water (of course it's not a fountain, but the little thing on the wall)  and everyone took something and did something and said something.  Not me.  I didn't even stay in the crooked line at this point.  I just kept walking straight out with a dry forehead and no water marks on my dress.

I've decided that the next time I go to a funeral I'm not going to wear black.  But I'll probably still wear my bracelet.  And I might couple it with my misbaha.  That's a strand of Islamic prayer beads that I fashioned into a bracelet. It was a gift from one of my Iraqi refugee students.  (Don't worry.  I asked him if it was okay before I dismantled it to make the bracelet.) Then when someone says, "Peace be with you," I'll say, "Salam" just to confuse them a little.  It would have confused me, too, because until five minutes ago when I googled it, I just thought it meant "goodbye."  But do you know what it really means?  It means peace.