The Eulogy

I have been very busy at work lately, but apart from that I also went to a funeral. I know none of you knew the deceased, she was not famous or rich, to most people she was just an ordinary woman, but she was loved by those who did know her and I would like to send her to wherever she is going now, knowing that she was loved. In short I would like to tell you a bit about her, so that even strangers know why we, who knew her, loved her.

John is a shift manager at the bar. In June he took a leave of absence to take care of his 63 year old mom, Ingrid, because she had been diagnosed with some terrible and very fast version of cancer. When she died a few weeks ago he was completely devastated, as were we all. His mom was one of the coolest people I know. When John came out to her she not only accepted it completely, she insisted on being a part of the LGBT community. She has given speeches at the local high schools about the relationship she and John had, how they would talk about everything, even the things they might find embarrassing, and how important it was to her that her son felt he could always trust and confide in her.

Ingrid was a regular at the bar, mostly she would come with John, but sometimes she would bring friends her own age along and show them around and proudly proclaim “My son works here.” She was so incredibly proud of him.

She would make layer cakes (which when filled with fresh fruits and topped with whipped cream are the traditional birthday cakes here) whenever one of the bartenders had a birthday and for my 25th birthday, when my dad had the flu and my parents couldn’t take me out to celebrate, she insisted on cooking me a three course meal and inviting all my closest friends to her house to celebrate. It was one of the best birthdays I have ever had, and that includes the one when I turned 9 and my parents bought me the coolest yellow mountain bike ever! Everyone was in such a good mood, the whole night was perfect and Ingrid stood up, raised her glass and proclaimed that if she had ever had a daughter, she would have wanted her to be just like me.

Ingrid was the mom of the gay bar. Everyone who worked there knew and loved her. They went to her for advice and when times were tough and she was always there to give a hug, a friendly word, or a couch to sleep on. She was the backbone of our tiny community and I am not sure what we will do without her.

Her funeral was beautiful. The church was completely packed, people were standing in the back and in the end they left the doors open so the latecomers could hear the service from outside. There were so many flowers that John insisted we all take home a bouquet so she would stay with us a little while longer. At the moment Ingrid, in bouquet form, is sitting right here on my desk, keeping me company as I write this and silently cry.

I miss her; I don’t think I ever won’t.

And I really don’t want to end this eulogy, because when I do, well then she’s really gone isn’t she? I know everything has to end, but can we just say there will be no ending to this? Can we pretend it keeps going, at least for a little while longer? I’d like that.