Pocket Change

I’ve always liked the way my blue blazer feels when I slip it on. Silk lined, it slides smoothly over my pressed white shirt and I acquire the look of “dressed up”. The fabric is hand stitched ultra-suede and it was made in France, beautiful, fits perfectly, and I found it at the Goodwill for $10.

There is history in the pockets, unfortunately nothing from the previous owner. But over the years I’ve gradually accumulated moments of time in the form of theatre tickets, a folded high school graduation program, restaurant matches from dinners out, spare coins, a Canadian dollar bill and most recently programs from a wedding and two memorial services for family friends that have passed.

Both rich in emotion, a wedding and a funeral are two sides of the same coin. We hope for good things in both this life and beyond physical death. One is pure celebration, the other is often so stiff it seems as if rigamortis in the deceased becomes manifest in all others present. Either numb with our fear and uncertainty about death or locked into a construct of belief that we hope offers – the Truth. But we don’t really know do we?

I have admiration for the power faith has to change the living, but the dead, well we here are left to wonder and either get busy living or get busy dying as was said in The Shawshank Redemption. And there in is a lesson in letting go. Living in the present, doing what we can in this moment and taking stock of our aspirations and actions not out of fear of retribution from a god, but for the selfish and selfless acts of connection to Life in all it’s manifestations.

I hope it offered comfort to some, but near the end of the service a minister got up and asked us all to pray in the name of Jesus Christ. He said if we wanted to see the deceased again we needed to accept Jesus as the way to get to where they were – presumably in heaven. I guess any Jewish, Islamic, Buddhist or other denominational friends in attendance were out of luck, and I had to use better judgement and restrain myself from shouting out “Shalom!” at the end of his preachy lecture. And I'm Irish!

I don't plan on being buried but I haven't decided for sure just yet. Maybe I'll make myself and urn as I have for family and friends. But at my demise, if my blue blazer is still intact I don't think I'll be wearing it. If there is another plane of existence I want to go casual.