Dreams of Falling, Anyone?

We heaved the box to the grave on a camping cot, family gathered 'round, sharing the load. As carefully as possible, and holding breaths we slowly reel dad's cardboard cocoon down via two carefully placed and poorly secured ropes. On everyone's mind, apparently, was, "I hope we don't screw this up. We don't want the kids to see Grandpa come sliding out of the end of this flimsy thing and crumple to the ground."


Didn’t everyone’s minds fix onto the firm ground of potential disaster? We were suspended by possible horrors in “what if” land What if he falls out but misses the hole? Does one of us point attention to a singing bird in a nearby tree while side-sweeping him with a subtle shoe? What if he falls out and into the hole. Do we just continue? Do we all act like that was planned and begin shoveling dirt after? What if the box gives way enough around the duct taped top that an unwelcome arm flops out. Do we stick it back in? Do we ask if anyone wants a divinely offered second chance to claim his rings? Do we take turns giving him a farewell shake good-bye?

Months later, as family groups informally recall the home funeral, these scenarios, played out in grippingly disturbing ways in everyone's minds, have become a sort of gallows’ humor. First, there was the surprise in discovering that I was not the only one who was worried about the structural integrity of his paper cube. It was designed to be burned, after all. Nope, sooner or later, everyone there has confessed to having similar dark thoughts about the final maneuver. What drama!

Somewhere along the path, our stumbles have become experience and frailties turned to wisdom. Who would have thought that the universal dream of falling could bring us all together for laughs and healing?