The thing I thought about the most at my Sitti's funeral was the people who could not have services like this. Sitti is the Arabic word used for Grandmother. And in the moments I stared at the closed casket, all I could think about was how anyone could be inside. Any Sitti. I also thought about how Palestinians know the word Sitti well.

More simply, the things in my head while I sat through a Catholic Mass, a familiar but distant experience, were that I didn't need finality, but found it anyway, and I also could not help but think of those who will never have the same privilege as my family in that moment.

In her eulogy, my cousin shared themes of love, and my Sitti was loving. Endlessly so. She would pour care and food into you. My cousin also mentioned how each of my Sitti's 21 grandchildren would love her back, which left an itch in the back of my neck as I thought of the at least two who chose not to attend because of "differences in opinion." I'm sure many of you reading have found similar issues with at least one family member. What is unconditional love, if not slightly conditional?

In the Gospel Reading, the reading in Catholic Mass that precedes the sermon, the reading came from Matthew 25:31-46; here is an excerpt:

"They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'
"He will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'

In this story, Jesus teaches us that he lives in all of us, and in all of us we must serve. The bible is full of guidance like this. This is Socialism before it had a name. A guide to living for the people and not for capital. And yet in a room full of Catholics, I know many of them question wealth redistribution, housing and clothing the poor, and praise the cutting of SNAP benefits.

I don't know my Sitti's political beliefs, but she did regularly have Fox News on her TV. Does that make her bad or tarnish my memories of her? I don't think so. She may just have had conditionally unconditional love.

I wonder how many children called out to their Sitti as their homes collapsed upon them. I wonder how many loaves of bread or warm meals have gone uncooked because of my tax dollars. The Sittis who still are, but have no family left to care for. How many Sittis were but are no longer, or never became.

As I stared at the coffin of my grandmother, I could not help but think of the endless death doled out for no other reason that I can tell than to build real estate for a New Yorker who wants a summer getaway and to wipe a people and a history away.

How fortunate I am to have lived 30 years with a Sitti who loved me unconditionally. And how fortunate Mary Lou Zarick is to have lived 93 years surrounded by people who loved her and to be given a proper burial so that she may enter the Gates of Heaven safely.

Jesus was a Palestinian, and in many ways still is. I just wonder what little of my fortune I can give to the least of us, because I found finality where I wasn't expecting it. The best I can do right now is think of those who have not, and never will. Rest in peace, Sitti, wherever and whenever you are.