Sober thoughts

There's something so final about a funeral.
I know that sounds simplistic, but when I lose someone I care about, especially when it's unexpected, I rebel against the funeral with every fiber of my being. I don't want to help plan it, think about it, dress for it...because that means accepting that it's true. This person is really gone. I won't wake up from this bad dream, they won't come walking in saying it was all a mistake--no, it's real, and it's permanent. Final.
That's what was going through my mind yesterday when the white limo with U.S. flags on the front parked in front of my neighbor's house to take his young widow and 2 little girls to his funeral. They were followed by dozens of cars, which have been at that house all week, supporting the family. It took a long time for her to come out, and I wondered if she felt the same as me. If she didn't want to have to admit that he was really dead.
He was 31 years old. He and his 20-something passenger (whom I just found out was his wife's brother) were killed in a car wreck last Saturday--the newspaper said the car "lost control and flipped". When we found out what happened, Mikayla went with me to take them a casserole; we said we were so sorry and would be praying for them, and came home. And I have prayed for them, especially yesterday, watching the cars go by. But I don't  know them very well. Not at all, really. His 9-year-old daughter has come over (step-daughter maybe?) a couple of times when she got home from school before either parent and was locked out. I'm glad she knows she can come here. She's at an age between my girls' ages and likes different things from my girls, so they've never had much to talk about. Just jumped on the trampoline once or twice.
But I don't really know them at all.
He was drunk when it happened. It was his 3rd DUI, at least. Which is such a stupid, tragic waste of a young life full of promise. He had a good job, a wife and 2 kids, and served in the National Guard. Maybe his time in Iraq contributed to his drinking--like I said, I don't know. But this is one more reason Mike and I don't drink, and why we teach our kids to avoid alcohol.
Now I know that nowhere in the Bible does it say that drinking is a sin, although it is very clear about drunkenness. Maybe drinking alcohol isn't, in itself, sinful. I know lots of people, friends and family, who are better Christians than I am, who drink. I love and respect them. They could point out things in my life that the Bible clearly does say are sins--so I'm not saying this in condemnation or self-righteousness. But I once went to a church in which I was made to feel like I was the sinner for NOT drinking, for teaching my children not to drink. Ever since, I've genuinely examined the Word and questioned myself for justification, as it were, for my beliefs. And this is a good example. If you never taste it, you'll never grow to love it. If you never love it, you'll never need it. If you never try it, you'll never know how much it takes to get drunk, putting yourself and those around you in danger, leaving widows and orphans behind.
[Note: I wrote most of this last Sunday, but just now had time to finish it. One of my neighbor's daughter's is just 3 years old. We have heard her crying for her Daddy in the days since the accident. The 9-year-old came over twice this week, and said her mama "cries a lot and talks to the preacher." I also got to talk to the grandma. She said the mom does okay until the 3-year-old starts crying, and then she falls apart. I cannot imagine her grief, but it breaks my heart. Please pray for them today, and that we would know how to support them and show love to them -- maybe even be able to say we know them.]