THIS IS US
The Stunning Ordinariness of Death
I went to a funeral, and I couldn’t stop focusing on the mundane
My cousin Sam died on Thursday. On Sunday I flew to Virginia to attend his funeral, because Jews waste no time getting people into the ground. Someone asked me why we do it that way, and I had no idea.
I thought that flying to a funeral would somehow make the airport different but it was the same. I was annoyed at the ticketing kiosks that replaced humans. I was convinced that I’m guilty of something at the TSA checkpoint. I was thrilled to buy gossip magazines for $40 at the newsstand, relieved when I got to the gate, and convinced I was going to die on takeoff and landing.
A young, joyful kid with bleached blonde hair and many earrings was at the hotel check-in desk. He did not look like someone who would enjoy wearing a name tag, but he smiled the whole time while I awkwardly explained to him that I didn’t want to Uber to the funeral, I wanted a taxi. I liked this moment. Unlike all the other moments of the trip so far, it fit into the little movie in my head about how a funeral should go: There should be a scene when a perfect stranger looks at you with kindness, even if he’s paid to be kind.
