I went to a funeral today. I didn't cry. Somehow, through the whole service I felt a bit disconnected. The deceased was a second cousin who was like an Uncle to me. I loved him dearly. I left the Church several years back. I was never a good Christian--always questioning things. It just never made sense to me. I come from a strongly religious family, but somehow, the fervor missed me. I sat there, looking around at the wood and the colored windows and thought how lovely the room was--I'm sure it would be a wonderful place to visit when seeking solitude. The preacher mentioned the "mystery of death" and I thought "shouldn't that be the mystery of life?" Another, younger, cousin played the guitar and sang "The Old Rugged Cross", a song that always brought tears to my eyes at funerals, and still nothing. Actually, he did a lovely job and for a moment I wanted to clap. The preacher made some golf jokes and we sang "What A Friend We Have In Jesus". I surprising remember most of the words. And it was over. And still this disconnect. For some reason, I miss Communion. I grew up Presbyterian and was a Deaconess. Communion was special to me. But I don't miss the rest of it. I find it odd.