36. funeral

I'm on my iPhone, so it's impossible for me to get into the groove of writing like I'd like to, but I'm on Long Island and my computer is in Manhattan, so I have no choice.

I went to a funeral today. Rob's uncle passed away last weekend unexpectedly and the service was today. Being the good boy that I am, I came out here to support him and his family. Nothing is worse than having to deal with unexpected death. That's something I had the pleasure of learning earlier this summer when my dog died. I was devastated. And I only had Russel for two years. So I can imagine the agony of losing a husband/father/favorite uncle/brother/friend. Clearly the grief is overwhelming and it's always good to be surrounded by love. So I came out to support my L.I. family. Naturally, it's what a gentleman would do.

Which is actually my first truly gentlemanly act in a while. It feels good to be getting my footing again after a long summer.

The thing about funerals that always gets to me is religion. Religion is such a tricky squirrel. And now, more than ever, I am so totally baffled by its mysteries. I've never really been all that religious. I went to church as a kid, but it seemed more of a social thing for my family than anything else. My brother and I went with mom. Dad stopped going pretty early on, which is strange since he's obviously the most religious person in my family. But the misanthrope in him kept him at home. Church for me was never really about God. It was about pagentry. Literally. It's where I got my first taste of theatre.

Eventually we stopped going. I was in middle school when that happened. I'm not sure why we stopped attending, exactly, but we did.

So the idea of God was never really impressed upon me growing up. Both of my parents have made mention of their spirituality every now and again, but it's such a personal relationship (and not one that I was ever really privy to) so that when I find myself in a place of worship for any reason, I am perplexed at this mass of people singing and chanting and proclaiming their love of God.

Now don't get me wrong. I understand the sociology and psychology of religion. And I have my moments where I realize there are voids in my life that could be filled by faith. But like all of the other holes in my life that need filling, I find that the social norms and the accepted ways of doing things are alien to me.

From time to time I meditate on the thought of God. The last time I did this was the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. Being in the church today made me wonder if it's time I do a little more digging. Especially being where I'm at in my life right now. I've lost faith in what I thought to be true this summer and I fear the only way I can move forward is to figure out what I want to believe in. Either find something new or solidify what I already thought to be true and realize this past summer was just a test of faith.

It's funny, I remember writing something earlier this year about making this year a religious quest, but the art of being a gentleman was to be my new religion. But maybe I need to take stock in my personal relationship with the abstract of god. The Bible, no, but God, yes.

We'll see, I suppose. It's at least worth the thought...

I used to put my faith in the universe. You could call that God or fate. But I believed wholeheartedly that everything had a reason and all things worked out the way they were meant to be. Personal experiences even proved that my life was being taken care of. The road may have been winding, but I was always able to, in hindsight, see how the road got me from there to here.

This summer, however, when dreams were lost and pain took over, faith left too. I know I'm not "here" yet, and I'm still on the path from "there" but I feel like I've been "there" for too long now. I'm restless and unhappy and I've seen so many possible "heres" come and go that I've started giving up on waiting for the destination to present itself. I guess I just feel like I've been left in limbo and this is the longest I've been stuck here. And that is why I write of not knowing how to fill my days. I'm so used to being directed and guided. My life feels like this constant path that I occasionally make pit stops at, and I've been looking for a pit stop for the past few miles with no signs of one in sight...

But faith would tell me that there's one ahead. There's always one ahead. I just have to keep moving forward in its direction. That's the real answer. The one constant I keep coming to. I have to keep moving.