Impressions of a funeral. ( to read)

I went to the funeral of my friend today in La Colle. It is not my first funeral here…and in the same church. I was right on time wearing my black on black …The police had shut down the road for the event. The town is very old and the streets are narrow where the church is. The hearse was in front, ready for the ceremony to commence. ( in french, a le corbillard is a hearse.) It was mostly men standing in the street, talking. I saw my friend Fred and we kissed, both cheeks although I would rather have had a hug. I Kept going and saw my english speaking friend, Christophe with 2 women. The younger woman with a long braid a pretty eyelashes said to me, in english “ do you remember me?”…no…no idea…I am Fred’s daughter…I don’t at all remember meeting her…so then I realized the woman with her was Fred’s wife…she was all dolled up. Fred likes blondes…everyone know that. I apologized to the daughter…

Christophe said that I was famous in La Colle…no, I said.

and then it was time to go into the church. We watched as the plain pine box was taken out of the hearse  and carried inside. 

Fred’s wife encouraged me to go ahead…they sat in the back and I went to mid church with Fred and Christophe. Both Fred and I had tears in our eyes. People filed in. I saw the mayor of La Colle and a few dignitaries in the front. The family was up ahead of me, but I only somewhat know the wife.

When I get upset, nervous, stressed, sometimes my throat closes up and forces me to cough , uncontrollably. I felt it coming on…It was so silent and I had to dig through my handbag to find a cough drop ( that I always carry just for this reason)  …the woman in front of us turned around and give me a glare for making noise…

The mass began…I spaced out, not interested but looked around at the interior of the church. I saw the sun starting to creep through the stained glass throwing greens and yellows on the white wall behind the altar. The priest had on sneakers and a bright green cassock. He was a black man with a big round head. The church had concrete arches with corinthian pilasters of some kind of orange veined marble The statues were very gold…stations of the cross…saints with hands on their hearts.

I could see the casket and suddenly realized that there was one of the photos I took of Noulin framed and in front of the casket. It brought me right back to that day when I took the photos…beautiful light, such a lovely day that I will never forget. …and the tears ran…Fred looked over at me in kindness knowing that I felt as he did…a massive loss of someone so wonderful…such incredible energy, someone with so much love…

The priest waved inscents over the coffin and over the photo ( frankincense?) and then the holy water. I heard some mumbo jumbo about life after death and I hope that he will meet his beloved brother and father. …a phone went off and I though…that’s Noulin! sending me a message…as the last time I was in that church was at another funeral and I was with Noulin. His phone went off mid service…just like today…and everyone turned around and looked at us. I had to chuckle through the tears. 

Then men came in and carried the casket out and the people filed out behind it. 

I saw a man I knew and he kissed me on both cheeks so lightly ,so slowly…and I could see he was very upset. He said not a word to me. 

We all congregated in the street as the family lingered around the hearse. 

I said my quick goodbyes…I hadn’t planned on going to the cemetery…I felt a little bad about it but I will go there in my own time and find him.

I just didn’t want any more of the memory of this sadness.  I would have preferred some continuation of his energetic spirit in the whole experience…it was so very sad. I wanted it to be lighter and so I skipped the burial. I know he would not mind.