What I Would Have Said by Tami Cinquemani

I’m writing this blog on United #1028 from Chicago to Orlando.  The red eye left at 10 pm and will arrive in Orlando around 2 am.  That’s a lot of time to think, and right now I’m having one of those “shoulda-woulda-coulda” moments.

The purpose of my visit to Chicago was to spend time with my family and attend a celebration of my father’s life, who died a couple of weeks ago.  This wasn’t your typical bereavement occasion.  There was no time of viewing in a funeral home or service conducted in a church.  We had what is called an “Irish wake” . . . basically a party where everyone eats, drinks, and shares memories of the lost relative.  This is what my family does.

As our guests were arriving, my brother told me that he and my mother planned to say a few words before the meal began.  He asked if I would like to do the same.  Though I appreciated the invitation, I panicked.  You see, I’m a writer—not a speaker.  Don’t get me wrong, I can get up in front of people and talk . . . but never without a great deal of preparation.  Needless to say, in hindsight, my words—though nice—were not sufficient.  As soon as I sat down, I began to think of what I should have said.

One of the reasons my family mourns in this unique way is because of the diversity of belief and unbelief we represent.  Atheist, Agnostic, lifelong believer, cynical ex-believer, curious seeker, or combinations of any of the above.  Faith is not a common topic of conversation, and for the most part we respectfully accept everyone’s personal conviction or lack thereof.

However, I believe my dad’s death, and the reality of what that means opened a door to a conversation I would have liked to begin.  Death can be very frightening if you’re not sure what follows.  Just a few short weeks before my dad died, my uncle passed away.  The death of two very wonderful and very loved men in such a short period of time begs the question, “Is that all there is?” 

As someone who believes there is so much more after this life, I wish I had carefully shared the hope I have in seeing my father and my uncle again.  I don’t want to beat myself up over this, but I now realize that, though my relatives may not share my faith, they may be willing to share my hope.  

Tami Cinquemani