Rites of Passage

Funerals are beautiful ceremonies that help us remember the simplicity and complexity of a person. We have a chance to formally grieve. We think about how that person's time here made a difference.

This rite of passage makes us reflect on our own lives as well. What good or great things have we accomplished? Whose lives have we affected, and how? If we had it to do over, what would we change? Could we make those changes starting tomorrow? It's a powerful, emotional, and thoughtful process.

Rarely, though, are there celebrations of a person's accomplishments while the person is still around. My family rocks birthdays, and I'm glad for it. But mostly, none of us gets the chance to tell a room full of people how important that boss or friend or parent is to us.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I attended the retirement party of a good friend's husband this past weekend. There was a huge table full of photos, quotes, letters, and memorabilia that described all of the aspects of Michael: athlete, coach, teacher, principal, son, father, husband, friend, brother, uncle, boss, colleague, and more.

It was as if we were reviewing and appreciating his oeuvre at an art show. We drank, we ate, we talked, we laughed. I met people who are important in my friend's life that I would never have met otherwise. It was fun and rewarding.

Then there were the words of appreciation. At the designated time, we all gathered outside to hear what folks had to say about Michael, his work, and his life. Not knowing Michael well, I wasn't sure what to expect. Obviously the guy was well respected, because there were hundreds of people at this shindig.

A picture emerged of a man with high standards, who didn't take himself seriously and could be located by his laugh, who loved kids and the work he did with them, and who was a fantastic leader. Standing in the sun with beer in hand, I couldn't stop smiling. This was the man my friend had loved for decades. I understood him, and her, and their life, so much better. It was amazing.

My favorite toast was given by a woman who was obviously uncomfortable speaking in front of a group, but she ponied up. She said something like, "I knew you at one of the hardest times in your life, and you proved to be a man of courage and ethics. You were worth putting my career on the line for." Tears welled up in her eyes, and her voice wavered a bit, but she kept going. "So I'll give you the Scottish toast: Here's to us. Who's like us? Damn few, and they're all dead." Funny, and poignant.

What really got me was the first thing he said, before all the speechifying commenced. "I want to thank Linda. I couldn't have done any of this without her." Then he talked about how his work wouldn't have been possible without the competent, capable people he'd worked with over the years. This was a man I wanted to know. I was honored to have the opportunity to learn about him at this point in his life rather than at his funeral.

Rites of passage--retirements, commitment ceremonies, graduations, and finally, funerals--should always be a time for admiration, appreciation, and publicly acknowledged gratitude. Let's make them all big lovefests. Watch how it changes the energy of the person, everyone he knows, his community, and the world.