I just returned from a funeral. It was for the father of a friend who passed away after a brief fight with cancer. It was his choice to not continue with life-saving treatments and so, he allowed his body to leave the earth on its own terms.

The service itself was a strange mix of rituals and celebration of this man's life. It made me think of the nonsense we create around us to feel comfort: the readings from ancient texts; the somber songs sung by mediocre voices; the pianist coughing uncontrollably and making everyone squirm in uncomfortable seats.

The minister spoke of all the lovely ways this man contributed to his faith community. He told tales of this man's message of love and commitment to others as though he was a saint. All the while, I sat there knowing the broken connections he had with his very own children and it seemed hollow to me. What is the good of being spoken well of if it is simply not all true?

I'm sure, deep down, this man loved his family and his children but he left the earth without them feeling it. In fact, a deep sigh of relief was breathed by his own as his death meant freedom for them. Freedom from how much they lived as a disappointment to his fragile ego.

The ego can take you to the highest of heights and also deliver the most pain. His ego kept him from rejoicing in his children's lives. It seemed he never found a way to relegate it enough to show them unconditional love and affection. Instead, he made the choice to surround himself in a community of people who could stroke it so he could feel good about himself.

I’m sure he had his own demons and this was a way to cope but, I want to do better. 

Perhaps part of this man’s legacy can be to ensure I never let my ego get in the way of opportunities to love, understand and change? For that, sir, I thank you and wish you well, wherever you are now.

Peace,