Here we are, getting down to the nuts n’ bolts of death.
Cleaning out possessions from dad’s room, meeting with the mortician, going over the funeral plans, choosing flowers.
I heard recently that from an LDS perspective, LDS funerals should have the three following components: Remembrances of the deceased’s life, comforting words for the mourners, and preaching the Gospel.
Preaching the Gospel? WTF?
I thought that was just another crazy-eyed, bitter ex-Mo’s opinion until I heard that my brother (Bishop B) said the same thing. So, I did what anyone would do: I called him and told him I would be speaking at dad’s funeral. Someone should be there without the ulterior agenda of selling something.
LDS people are opportunists of the worst kind. That’s why MLM’s (multi level marketing) scams, er, schemes, er, businesses are so successful here. People think nothing of walking up to you, asking you to come to a meeting, bait and switch you into buying the intro package, and then hitting you with the actual cost while making the big wigs rich–all while YOU work your butt off and get paid SQUAT. Oh, wait, that’s when you get invited to church…
See, my dad was LDS, so I can appreciate LDS overtones in the service, but if one of the tenets of the service is to “comfort the mourners”, are they that arrogant to assume that all of the mourner’s will be comforted by being excluded of the “Eternal family” package deal? We didn’t buy in, we didn’t get the starter kit, we didn’t pick a sponsor.
We’re just there to celebrate a life. Why can’t it be as simple as that, with the dogma left at home in a box?
I wonder how many people will pity me as they look at my tears and wonder how I could be happy or comforted knowing I won’t be with my dad for “eternity”. Well, I’ve got news for them: love and memories are eternal, and I will always have them. Well, the ‘love’ part anyway.
Yep, the next few days will prove interesting. I am getting on my high boots, climbing up to the high road, and hopefully I can avoid some of the bullshit I’ll have to navigate along the way. And I don’t have a penis to give me any credibility. Double trouble.
That’s okay; I’ve been told more than once that I have a set of steel balls bigger than most men. I can thank my dad for that, too. He taught me how to stand up for myself and for what I believe.
Well I hope he understands that I am there for him and only him. When they start droning on about eternal families and Mormonism, dad and I will have a little chat, and he’ll understand; he’ll probably say “What, you think there are Mormon’s here? No such thing anymore.”
Then I will eat some ice cream afterwards, with the nuts, just for him. :0)
repost from Ravings of a Mad Woman blog