Grandma K's Funeral in Journal

had a very young looking pastor officiating. I honestly didn’t listen to most of it. Holding a squirmy baby, and the immediate monotonous and droning tone he took on at the very start was off putting. Makes me wonder why more pastors don’t take public speaking lessons. Sheesh. Yes, it was a funeral, but we could all do with a bit less dismal depressing talk.
He asked the small gathering if we had any stories or memories to share, and most everyone did say a word or 2. I guess maybe I am defensive, or just biased, when it comes to these things… but it seems to me that the quieter people in a gathering always get buried by the quick to speak, louder people in a group.
And so, being a quieter person, and also being married to a quieter person, neither of us felt invited to speak. That’s for the loud ones, it seemed.
It struck me as even worse, though, for the few moments I spoke with Grandma N after the service to express my real and deep regret about Grandma K never having met our baby, she looked sad for the barest moment. Quickly, though, her face cleared and she waved a hand as if to swat an annoying fly, “Oh, well she sees him now.” she told me dismissively.

I don’t know why, perhaps it’s my naivete, but I am continually surprised by religious people. The things they say to ease their own discomfort, the things they do because they must adhere to the dogma, entirely nonsensical stories about miracles, and entirely misplaced devotion.
I wonder, if Grandma N didn’t believe in God, would she care more about what happened here on earth? Would she allow herself to feel the discomfort of grief for a dear woman who’s last wish went unfulfilled? Would she concern herself with the very real problem of her great-grandson’s neglect, abuse, and bad parenting?
And, I wonder the same for my MIL. The religion bug has her, as well. What if the energy and time and resources that they pour into religion were instead poured into something consequential in the here and now? What might change? What might come into focus as being of primary importance?
I can’t help but wonder… how would their children’s lives be different? How would my husband be different? How would I be different? How would my son be different?

It is a sobering thought experiment. But one that really internalizes the problem of religiosity. Of the destruction of impotent mysticism.