A funeral

I'm singing at a funeral this morning.

I don't know whose funeral it is.

My wife took a message from our choir director while I was in Detroit.

It seems the mother of one of our choir members died. She did not get the name.

I called the director when I got back, but only got her answering machine. I said I would be there.

Even though I do not know who the person is, or even who the choir member is, I will gladly sing. It might help to ease the pain of the family to have music, and to know that the choir members support a fellow parishioner and a fellow choir member.

I thought back to the funerals I've had in the past couple of years - my mother and my grandmother. My mother's funeral was small, but a few friends of my parents did attend. I appreciated that. When my grandmother died, though, the funeral was a minimal affair. Few people knew her. She had been in senior residences and nursing homes for years, and was not a social person. At almost 92, she had outlived the friends she did have. The funeral party basically consisted of the six surviving members of my immediate family, my parish priest - who did not know her - the organist and cantor, and one or two other people who knew me. It made the funeral seem even sadder.

So I will gladly sing this morning for the sake of my fellow choir member, her mother, and their family. They already have enough sadness to think about. Maybe a little support will help make it easier for them.