Curtis' Funeral

This morning was Curtis's funeral. I wore my suit to work and went straight to the funeral at 11:00. Everyone at work asked about the suit and when I told them about Curtis, who none of them know of course, everyone seemed to be pretty shocked, which kind of surprised me, because I wouldn't be so shocked to learn of a co-worker going to a funeral for a relative or someone who had been sick for a long time. But maybe the tragedy of the accident and his born and unborn daughters was overwhelming. Michael R. had read about Curtis in the newspaper, which was strangely satisfying for me to hear.

I just barely got to the funeral on time. It was at a church up in the hills northeast of Provo Temple. I had to use my GPS software to find the place, as the address was one of the few in all of Utah that didn't follow a coordinate grid. So I guess that proves the worth of the GPS stuff I bought . Anyways, the church was packed. I found a place beside some other Frisbee people. Everybody was there, including Don and Jessica and Mike and Adam (whose arm and leg were in a cast) and Jeff and Dave and Heather and Kristie and the list could go on for quite a while. Curtis' brother (Matt) and sister, who I don't really know, gave the eulogy. Some other members of his family and Amy's family spoke, but somewhat disappointingly, not Amy. She was there, and I really would like to have heard what she thought of all this. Members of his bishopric spoke, both the one in the ward to which he belonged, and the one for the BYU ward for which he was the first counselor. I had not known he was in a bishopric. It didn't surprise me. Also, his dad who was a General Authority of some kind spoke.

Of all the speeches, I found those of Curtis' siblings most moving. Partly because of the memories and partly because they were the most honest and authentic in their emotions. His dad and the and church leaders seemed to be holding something back. They seemed more concerned with offering us with formulaic reassurances than remembering Curtis. Which I guess is what a lot of people wanted, so I can't fault them too much. One thing that did annoy me was that some people espoused the argument that the reason Curtis died was because the Lord needed him to serve some greater mission in the Spirit World. This was obviously an important belief for a lot of the family, because they chose to sing "Called to Serve" at the end of the funeral. "Called to Serve" at a funeral! That's an argument I hear a lot about death, and it seemed especially convenient to look back at Curtis' great life and say he already did everything he was sent to this Earth to do, so it was time for him to move on. To me, that's just bull. I mean, that's almost like blaming the Lord, without so much anger. That's just people latching on to anything they can find to comfort themselves because they're afraid they may not find meaning otherwise. But the fact is, it was an untimely accident, pure and simple. What do the dead need so urgently of Curtis that we don't? For the dead, time is infinite. If the Lord had anything to do with it at all, I strongly suspect that His purpose was for us, the living. But whether or not He had a purpose, Curtis's death still has meaning. I don't yet know what that meaning is. It's probably not the same meaning for everyone, either. What's important is that we look for that meaning instead of trying to avoid the problem by attributing death to the cold, impersonal logistical needs of the Lord.

At any rate, throughout the funeral, as I learned more and more about Curtis, I was amazed. I mean, I knew he had an award-winning personality and he was almost like deity in his atheleticism, but hearing about how he acted around other's, especially his siblings and seeing how much he was loved by everyone, that was just amazing to me. Makes me wish I was more like him. And then he was smart, especially when it came to sciences and math. And he participated in school plays and student body and all sorts of things. He was an AP out on his mission. He was very focused—he had a list of life goals that he made after his mission, and he had accomplished all of them. And he was only my age. All and all a very admirable person. Everything was going for him. The more I get to know him, the more tragic his death seems.

I didn't necessarily cried, but I was unable to avoid shedding a few tears. That, and you know how your face gets all tensed up and your cheeks start hurting as you get really sad? I had that going through the entire funeral. And I could see that I wasn't alone. After the service, nobody spoke much. All of the Frisbee guys and gals gathered in the middle of the chapel, but not much speaking. They then went on to the family graveside service, where they had been asked to sing a hymn. But I didn't attend since I hadn't been specifically invited and I would have felt kind of funny in the presence of a whole bunch of people who knew Curtis so much better than I. Instead, I returned to work.

Later that day, we had our first post-Curtis ultimate game. I should probably back up to Tuesday night for a second and mention that very few people came out to play Frisbee, much less our team to practice. Chris and I threw and a few others showed up, but the core group was absent and we couldn't get a game going. Jon called to apologize for not showing up to the practice that he had proposed we all show up to. Only Cory from our team showed. And for the most part, no one talked. It was a very strange and somber night. Coincidentally, Cory was in the BYU ward that Curtis provided over. I have a hard time imagining what that must be like, to learn as a Freshman in college that such a charismatic member of your bishopric had just died in a car accident. With Fast Sunday happening the very next day, that must have been an intense sacrament meeting.

Back to Thursday, though, it was very cold and rainy. Before our game, the entire league got together and held a moment of silence. Ben also announced that we would be remembering Curtis by giving out a league Spirit Award each season in his name. As for our game, it actually wasn't as hard to get back in the Frisbee playing mode as I thought it would be. We didn't have everyone there, but we had enough people for two subs. We were playing Don Clark's team, which was decent although not extraordinarily good. Bryan Peterson, whose left had is in a cast still from the accident, was on their team and he actually played, which I think was probably a therapeutic decision on his behalf, essentially saying that he's not going to let the accident spoil his fun. Funny thing was, he actually scored on us a few times, partly because we didn't want to cover him too hard and hurt his arm, and partly because his legs were just fine. Man, does he have jets. He even dove once, which was probably a stupid thing. Anyways, we lost the game. We had a horrible first half, I guess, as everyone tried to get into a groove. We kept pace in the second half, but by then it was too late.

Soaked and very cold, I left after the game to go home and start packing for Europe.

Posted May 08, 2003 (09:19 PM) | Comments (2)