Too little, too late.

I got stuck behind a funeral a couple of days ago, and it started me thinking, about all the times I’ve watched a funeral go by me and found myself oddly and arbitrarily connected to a soul I never knew and his/her loved ones. I wonder about each car as it passes me; what legacy they carry with them to that hole in the ground they must face, next, what memories they hold dear or try not to think about; mourning, in my own way.

Then, I inevitably find myself thinking that it’s a rare occurrence I’m so magnanimous to the living. If someone were to cut me off, in that same spot, or make me slam on my brakes, without the benefit of a siren to justify his/her right of way, they would hear every expletive I could possibly imagine, and a few I’ve made up, in fits of rage. It baffles me, how much less courtesy I extend, to someone still alive to appreciate it. It’s all well and good to respect the dead, and I’m certainly not saying we shouldn’t. I merely think common courtesies extended to our fellow Wo/Man, while they still share this particular plane with us, might be appropriate, perhaps even, appreciated. We walk around next to each other, in each other’s lives, but still, always separate, still somehow, apart. Strangers, and weirdos, and breathing; oh, my!

Why does it take the death of a person, to finally see him/her, beyond the faults upon which we all focused; be we random passers-by, intimately intertwined, and everyone in between; while s/he was still alive? I wonder, where I’m concerned, what amnesty this person has gained, that s/he may (technically) cut me off in traffic (police escort, aside), where I would have verbally berated any breather who’d done the same? I, clearly have the obvious road rage, with which to contend, in my personal life. But, we all have the awful treatment of each other, to remedy.