By José Dominiguez, October 15, 2020 — Being at funerals is not of my favorite [things to do], nevertheless, I want to relate several personal experiences related to such happenings. Age has nothing to do with dumbness — so was the case when at my 25 years of age I said innocently, “My compliments for this occasion” to a sobbing widow instead of expressing my condolences. Obviously, my greeting came from my unconscious as an honest remark or from my dense neurons as [an act of] stupidity.
Years later I went to a funeral home because a 12-year-old son of a dear friend passed away and at the moment I faced Manuel, my friend, the only thing I could say with trembling voice was, “Manuel, I don’t know what to say” but he understood my silliness and embracing me said: “Thank God I was blessed with the presence of my son for 12 years.”
When my father died I was so close to him that someone asked, “How come you are not crying for your father?” and I answered, “When in life I tried to be near to him, I knew his feelings in regard to death, and I can tell you he was waiting for this moment as something dear, now that he is dead I know that this is what he was expecting with patience and equanimity.”
With Ramon, my second oldest brother, I learned how powerful it is to say farewell words in funeral conditions. I saw him at least 4 times when at funerals he always stressed, and in a very dubious manner, how that he had witnessed in the dying persons their conversions to Jesus.
Many years later when I experienced my wife’s death I became totally silent, astonished by her loss, unbelieving what had happened because until the end I was waiting for her recovery. After her death I painfully fell in a twilight suspense because I didn’t know what kind of solitude I was going to embrace without her.
But my main story in this essay is related to Anita’s funeral. In 2013 at El Paso, Texas, Anita, who was married to my nephew Robertito, died after suffering many years of lupus. Maria and I went one February Saturday night to the funeral house. The big room, where the open coffin was exposed, was almost full. At the end of the room was a big stage. At the right was Anita, at the center a podium with microphones, and to the left, hanging from the ceiling a large screen showed continually photos of her family pictured in past happy moments. From the speakers, Beatles’ songs emerged swinging through the atmosphere. Very clearly I heard those words of “Let it Be.” I decided to tell personally my farewell since I loved that girl as a beautiful human being full of love and kindness. Before arriving at the coffin I noticed that several women were around her praying in a very intense manner; at the same time they touched her with force, then, lifting up their arms insisted in something I quite didn’t understand. I approximated in order to press the ladies to leave because there was a line of persons with the same intention as I. Being near to the group I noticed that they were a group of Christians praying with the hope that in a providential display God will give Anita her life again. I decided to address to Anita a few words from my heart at the same time that looked at her peaceful and smiling face. Then I disappeared leaving the group in their intense effort of resurrection. After waiting a few minutes the Christian Church Minister opened the celebration of her death. Maria, my brother Roberto, and I were perhaps the only non-Christians in the gathering. Several speakers took the podium and praised Anita’s virtues and elevated their prayers to God in many different ways remembering her as a true righteous Christian. The most outstanding of the speakers was Roberto Jr, Anita’s oldest son, who did a remarkable resemblance of his mother embellished by copious biblical citations spoken in such emotive and wise way as if Jesus himself was inspiring his words. After him, the minister told us: “Well in case I need a substitute in our church I know that Roberto will be my best pick,” and then invited us to participate. Maria asked me to say something so I decided to take the micro. I was not feeling sure about that because my discourse would be by all means quite different and the public will catch immediately the words of an infidel.
Nevertheless, my words, I thought, will be not to please them but to honor Anita’s memory. So I told the audience, “I’m not a person acquainted with the Bible, so please I beg your forgiveness for my omission of the holy book that is out of my comprehension, I just want to say words that come from my heart. Since I met Anita at the University Of Texas at El Paso before she married Robertito, I always believed that he was a very lucky person because Anita was an exceptional human being, full of joy and compassion. From then till now she has been always a sweet memory [for me], a joyful experience, a permanent melody, like the shine of a smile, like the flight of a butterfly.” I ended my discourse and downed the stage stairs feeling happy about having the chance to meet Anita in my lifetime.