the strangest sense of my life flashing before my eyes

At my father’s funeral, there was the strangest sense of my life flashing before my eyes.

As the service wound down, and the minister giving the eulogy came to a close, there was the viewing of the body.

I moved up towards the front, but without realizing it, put myself right in the path of people coming up to the coffin.

I found myself in the position of shaking hands with a couple of hundred people.

Now I have been a minister for almost 40 years and have shaken the hands of countless tens of thousands of people. But this time was different.

There were people from all parts of my father’s life that came by. And by extension, they were from all parts of my life.

People I had not seen in decades or more walked by and told me hi. In each instance, they would tell me who they were, and it would astonish me.

A woman who I had last seen as a baby, cousins, old friends from my Jr High years, other various and assorted relatives and friends – all came by me and said hi.

It was, as I said, the strangest feeling. It was like my life was flashing before my eyes, as if everyone I had known chose those few moments to say hi one last time in my life.

Ella told me that when her dad died at the age of 85, he spent the better part of a day saying hi to a group of people who came into his hospital room. They started with recent acquaintances and pretty soon, over the course of the day, moved to people he had known as a little child.

All of these people were long dead and the reunion was all in his mind. But he saw and said hello to each and every one.

I was not dead nor was I even sick, but the ethereal and surrealistic quality of the meetings was strong and struck me strangely.

I was tired from the long trip down to Tyler, TX, I had just come off a 21 day fast that had left me somewhat weakened, there was the strain of my father’s death and funeral and my mother’s grief. These were all things that worked together to make for a strange experience.

It was not unpleasant, but it was odd. In many cases, I wanted to say, stop. Come back and let’s talk, but there were 150 more people in line. Or they had come a long ways to attend the funeral and had to get back.

Few if any of these people were at the dinner. So except for the brief glance and introduction and my own surprise, there was nothing else.

It began to dawn on me that there are some people that I wold love to hear from, to see, to talk to in real time and not just on Facebook. Now I might have nothing in common with these people, but the desire is great.

The desire is great also to go back to Texas City and Freeport and see where I came from, to reconnect with my roots. I suppose there would be no good in it, but I want to. If nothing else, for some kind of closure.

I am getting older and I do not want to die far from home. I know it makes no real difference, but it has been weighing on me lately.