On the other hand, what did I know? I had never been to a funeral before. I remember that a lot of people came to the house prior to the funeral. Like I said, the sad business of doing funerals hasn’t changed much. Even today, family members and friends gather together to support one another in a time of loss.
Most of the people present were people I didn’t know. Of course, my grandparents seemingly knew everyone. So did my dad and his brother, but they were mostly strangers to me.
I don’t recall the season of the year that my great grandfather died, but I do remember that the weather was warm. In fact, many family members talked with one another outside in the yard. That was good with me. For starters, it was crowded in the house. Secondly, there was a body in the living room and I found that frightening.
I assume that nothing unusual took place at the funeral service or subsequently at the cemetery. I have no memory of any of that. The second funeral I attended a few years later left a memory that I will never forget. It was unsettling even though I was over twice the age I had been at the earlier funeral.
It was the funeral for the brother of a friend of my parents. The brother wasn’t very old. He was killed in a car accident. The service took place at the cemetery and the man’s wife wept loudly - crying out her husband’s name over and over - begging him to come back. She held on to the casket as if to keep the folks in charge at the cemetery from lowering it into the ground. Family members eventually led her away. It is a memory I will never forget.
Someone recently asked me how anyone could possibly effectively manage the grief process without the kind of hope that Christians profess to have? Actually, I can’t begin to image. Yesterday I had the privilege of attending a funeral service in East Texas for a man two or three years older than me. Certainly those who came to the funeral came with heavy hearts, but they also came with a sense of certainty related to their loved one’s faith-walk with the Lord and the eventual reunification that will one day be theirs in heaven.
Hopefulness trumped despair and it was a celebration of life. Consequently, joy took precedence over sadness. Both were present, but it was an uplifting and positive experience. In addition, family members and friends supported one another and were enriched through the process of shared memories and stories from long ago.
The highlight for me was the privilege of hearing the shared reflections provided by the man’s three sons and a grandson. They all four shared a slightly different perspective, but the synopsis provided by each chronicled the dimensions of the man’s life that will forever be etched in stone in their memories. Some of their comments brought laughter, others brought tears, but the theme was one of gratitude for their dad’s investment in their lives. They also focused on the eternal nature of God's love and shared Scripture passages to highlight that assurance.
The camaraderie and sense of loving support that the three sons and grandson provided one another spoke volumes in terms of their values and sense of brotherly love. They talked about their extended family, the relationship between their father and his dad, the relationship the two of them had with them and their families and how that all played itself out in their personal lives. It was upbeat. It was positive. It was funny. It was genuine and it was touching.
No, theirs’ was not a perfect family. Actually, broken is the only way any of us come, but despite the brokenness and fragmentation associated to divorce, shared custody arrangements and a myriad of other obstacles, their dad weathered it all with a resolve to be the best dad to his children that he could be. He did his best and he succeeded. His sons felt his support and he was always an active participant in their lives. In addtion, he was proud of them in the midst of their adulthood for their innate abilities to raise their own children in the midst of intact families.
Following the funeral service, I had the opportunity to visit with the family at "the farm". I was privileged to watch the three brothers and their sister interact with one another. I listened as they relived childhood memories, took family photos, and re-experience some of their favorite things from childhood. Their memories associated to visiting on their grandparent's farm was a treasure chest of experiences. The least of which was sitting on the back of a tailgate while riding over the acreage. In the process, they pointed out what had been there thirty years ago and what had not.
One brother pointed out what had been known as “penny-a-rock” in the pasture. They all had vivid memories as opposed to fond memories of the assigned task of picking up rocks. Of course, a penny-a-pound would have been better than a penny-a-rock. Some of the rocks were really heavy.
At the juncture where the cattle thought the presence of the truck in the pasture meant feeding time, the cows came running. The herd got a little too close for comfort for the two brothers and sister sharing the tailgate. I’m not sure who squealed the loudest, but it sounded like two-part harmony from inside the cab where the youngest brother was driving and I was riding.
The only appropriate place for photos was the personalized family gate that had been the signature gate for their grandparents. It stated simply: “Bob-Sue”. One of the brothers laughingly said his 16 year-old son had just figured out the meaning of the trademark gate. Everyone laughed.
I was taking the photos. I didn’t laugh. Try as I may, I couldn’t figure it out. What did the 16 year-old know that I didn’t know? I finally had to ask. The grandmother’s name was Matilda Sue. The grandfather’s name was Robert. Consequently, “Bob and Sue” was a fair representation for both. I would have never figured that out.
The laughter and tears that surfaced over the course of the sibling’s shared time yesterday is one of incredible value. It, too, is a gift from God. I am grateful that I simply had the privilege of witnessing it. Call it what you will, but I think of it as a miracle.
All My Best!
Don