Dancing at the Funeral

My Italian grandfather's funeral in December -- what better event to turn back the clock? Everyone's sad and reminiscing, except the kids. They have random questions about the service, the cemetery, and the "why's?" Always a well-stocked supply of those. Kids always have the practical, logical and unexpected commentary at such events. In itself, their presence is refreshing. No preconceived notions about any of it. Meanwhile, the adults are discussing the complicated family dynamics, the details that never really need to be voiced, and all the harsh realities of the passing of time. I prefer to spend my time with the kids. Uncomplicated and real, but never too real.

One way I find to really get into their little minds, is to give them my camera. Photos from their perspective are always more interesting than those shot by adults. After the funeral and cemetery run, we all gather at the place we have always gathered for forty-plus years for the luncheon. Faded red Naugahyde booths, dark and cool, poinsettias and carnations everywhere, filled with relatives I have known forever, and still some I have yet to meet. I don't have the energy to take photos, but I also know that I will regret it later. I decided to give my camera to my nine- and eleven-year-old cousins. The photos were, as I suspected, amazing. Next time you're sad or caught up in the uninspiring complexities of simply walking the planet as a adult, spend some time with a kid. Give them your camera, and just enjoy the moments they capture. It's obviously something we don't do nearly often enough, and kids are experts at savoring the moment, willing to help us do the same anytime we need it.