I would not want you to cry. Go ahead and cry. You do not need to cry for me, of course. But I would not tell you not to cry at all. Every funeral is an opportunity to consider the harsh reality of Human mortality.

There is no virtue in suppressing grief. Funerals are a perfectly appropriate time to mourn – to mourn for the one who died, to mourn for others you miss, to mourn your own mortality, and to mourn the One who died so you could live.

Grief has no rationale. It does not care how old they were, how ill they were, how close you were.

Grief grabs you at your chest and squeezes relentlessly, just a moment longer than you think you can hold with a sudden and momentary release so that you can inhale sharply before you are squeezed again.

Grief comes in waves and then subsides so that you feel, Ok all is good, I am Ok. But then the wave comes again when you are on the street or in the store or just saying hello.

But instead of hello, your face heats up, your heart beats up, and the tears are there before you have a chance to keep them or look away and get it together in private.

It feels too shameful or painful to do near others. You apologize for your grief – it is overwhelming, intimate, personal – it is too much.

You do not want to burden others with the rawness and nakedness of your emotions. It is disorderly conduct that disturbs the peace to feel the depth of grief and sadness when everyone is just trying to go about their day.

Grief is cumulative and has no expiration date. It taps into the place that is hidden from sight. The one that holds moments past, time wasted, words unsaid, futures lost, regrets unacknowledged.

Residues from unattended relationships reside here. Grief is merciless. It exposes all, leaving nothing to hide behind or solid to hold onto.

Mourning is more familiar to you than ever before: the people you have loved, the life you have lived, the dreams you have lost.

Every person that you mourn is someone who has given to you. Every experience that you mourn, is something that has nurtured you. Every fantasy that you mourn, is a longing that has fueled you.

Every loss is a gift that once was, every void empty because it was once so full. The depth of mourning is intrinsically related to the heights of joy, forever intertwined regardless how much time has passed.

That does not make grieving less painful, but it does make it more permissible. And sometimes, permission to mourn, is all you really need.

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight. 
I am the soft stars that shine at night. 
Do not stand at my grave and cry, 
I am not there; I did not die.