Large Fierce Mammal

“Of no surprise to my readers will be the disclosure that my brand of humour veers sharply toward the dark side. My dance card of funeral attendance over the years includes both my parents, four uncles and one aunt, an assortment of friends and the parents of others, and that’s just the humans. If memory serves, I have also officiated at or otherwise participated in the last goodbye to five dogs, one horse, one cat, three hamsters, at least six birds of various species, a similar number of reptiles, and one monkey. Species be damned. Grief is grief.

“As I’ve gone through the grieving process myself, and watched others do the same, it has become clear to me that, in the end, the power and joy of a life well lived is not diminished by the final footnote that it came to an end. That grief is a path leading to a place where, without trivializing our loss or assuming a pretense that the one departed isn’t missed, we can once again think and speak of them fondly and often, without spontaneously melting into a weeping puddle of goo. That their lives will have meaning as long as those of us who remember still draw breath.” ~ Die My Dear? Why That’s the Last Thing I’ll Do

For a joyful and fulfilling interval back in the 1980’s, I wore the august mantle of Boy Scout Leader. In the performance of my duties, I met and worked with some fine fellow Leaders, and in my conceit still believe to this day that we imposed upon our Scouts something approaching a positive influence.

In July of this year, I received a message from one of my fellow Scout Leading alumni, Mark Hughes Esq., informing me of the death of one of our own; Scouter Peter McCarthy; and asking my assistance at a celebration of life event that was being planned by the family of our departed Friend and Comrade. A number of our former Scouts would be in attendance, and had agreed to be called to attention and led in a final salute. I was asked to speak a few words and then lead that salute. It is interesting to note that Peter had come to my mind only that very week, although until I got the news I didn’t know why, and needless to say, I agreed absent hesitation or reservation to accept the mission.

On the day, as I took my position behind the podium and surveyed the packed room, my eyes fell on Peter’s Wife and Sons in the front row. After introducing myself and describing why and how I knew Peter McCarthy, I began with …

“When I got the news from Mark that Peter had died, I was first of all shocked, and then all I could think was, ‘Damn it! We were sitting by a camp fire in the middle of nowhere back in 1984 when I warned him this was going to happen!'”

The entire room lit up with laughter, most particularly that ever so important group in the front row. The mood was set for me to talk about happier times, and draw attention, at least for a while, away from the “final footnote”, that will take its own good time in being recognized as such.