prayer for the dying

several years ago, i would wait until his mother and older sister would pick him up after sunday school. they'd wave, i'd wave, and off he went. he wasn't just a kid in my third grade sunday school, they were family friends. his grandmother was my grandmother's friend at the parties. our moms would talk with each other and stuff.

he's now a jr. in high school.
today, we buried his mother.
i hadn't been an altar server for a funeral in several years. so much so, i can't even remember when the last one was. i'd have to strain and think to remember.

i didn't go to the wake on friday. somehow, aside from other possible reasons, i don't like seeing the deceased outside of how i remember them. very rare that the dead look like when they did alive.

he's not taking it well either. but she was suffering and it was time to let go.

i remembered how the ceremony was supposed to be like riding a bike. still doesn't take away the fact that i got misty. i don't cry for his Mom, because she's no longer suffering. she can look down upon them. i cry for the ones she leaves behind. her parents, her husband, her children, etc. so while we pray for her soul, i pray for her family. the ones left behind.