Saying Goodbye to a Mensch

I had never been to a Hindu funeral despite many medical friends from India.  The son of a dear friend fell victim to a fatal pedestrian mishap a few days ago, assembling his many medical friends, neighbors, relatives from afar, and members of the Indian community at the funeral chapel where the sanctuary filled before my arrival.  Tributes came in sequence of a few minutes, conveying a compelling impression of the deceased, who I may have met one time many years ago when his father was a professional medical colleague.  The young man, certainly young by end of life standards and sudden tragic end, lived a very meaningful life, pursuing a variety of interests, some personal pleasures, others contributions to family and neighbors.  He like to walk among nature, photograph what he experienced, sample craft beer, expand his kitchen talents, and assemble photographs for his relatives who are geographically disperse but have shared memories now readily transmissible at the speed of light.  Basically a mensch, a man dedicated to his family, to the world, and the pleasures put in place by nature for people to enjoy.

Amid tragedy, even devastation as my friend has no other direct descendants, there is a joy for the time he had and the way he allotted that time.  Hindu custom is to cremate, with that aspect of the ceremony following the tributes.  There seems more a finality to that than to our Jewish requirement of burial, where we erect grave monuments that become part of history long after the two generations that follow have either inclination or ability to visit, placing a nearby stone on the matzevah as something of a calling card.  Cremation leaves memories to be internalized with oral legacies that perpetuate.  The comments at the funeral tied the deceased being honored with those who predeceased him and those still present.  Family and menschlichkeit endure.