... said no one ever. But just last weekend, I did.
Home again, I woke up this morning with a feeling that's hard to describe. Travel, jet lag, thinking juice, and whole lot of awesomeness combined to produce sadness and longing wrapped in a thick cushion of joy, nostalgia, love, and gratefulness.
We reconnected with people we haven't seen in a while, and we made new friends. We laughed, cried, and laughed some more.
And, celebrated. Family and close friends went to Buca di Beppo for dinner after the service and our large party was placed in a back room where, it appeared, all the large parties got seated. The first thing the waiter asked was, What are you celebrating?
A funeral, someone answered. Then, A celebration of life - which it was.
The room was loud with conversation and even more loud when a team of wait staff came to deliver birthday cake amidst clapping and singing in the manner one hopes one is never subjected to in a restaurant.
And, then, in a rare lull, someone at our table (and I know who) started clapping. I joined in and soon the whole table started clapping. No one knew why we were clapping but at that point it didn't matter. The next table joined in and it was certain we would have had the whole room clapping if we hadn't ended it with a joyous cheer.
As we left, someone at the next table asked, What were you celebrating?
Oddly, one responded, a funeral.
Actually, it was a celebration. And that's just the way Phil would have wanted it.
Rest in peace, Philip R. Compton.