They don’t take head counts at funerals.
They don’t take head counts at funerals and I wonder if they should. I believe it would give the bereaved an opportunity to quantify their loss. Perhaps it could be akin to the Pritchard scale for measuring poetry, a way to determine how long and deeply felt grief should be, simply based on the number of lives touched. See, that’s the problem with grief: there’s not much about it that’s quantifiable. It’s ebb and flow must be allowed to run its course, however it chooses, despite our best efforts to control it. Maybe we need a way to say, “Hey jerkface, this guy only had a handful of people at his wake, so it’s obvious that I cannot continue to feel sorrowful anymore.” or “Hey, this lady loved much and taught much and gave much, and so it’s ok that I’m continuing to be in such pain because she earned it.”
Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’m too used to accounting for everything that I forget to remember the Creator and Sustainer of life. If nothing else, Brady’s life and death taught me that it’s too short to be bitter about anything. It’s too short to be unfair to people and it’s too short to demand my way when it hurts less in the long run to bend over for whoever or whatever is in question.
I don’t know exactly how the great cloud of witnesses manifests itself, but Brady, if you were able to watch your service today, I hope you know just how much you were loved and just how much you will be missed. No more defense Coach, and no one ever gets cut their senior year in heaven.
Nope, no head count today, just a lot of people who were blessed by knowing this unassuming servant.