So it's been a while since I posted from the walking path. It's been a while since I've been on the walking path. But this morning it called, practically screamed, really, and who was I to deny it the time. I mean, it's only sleep, right?
So I just walked past my old stomping grounds and I'm a little nostalgic. But only a little. It's too fine a morning to be morbid or lonely.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
funeral today
Today I went to the funeral of my first cousin once removed (my mom's first cousin). Here are a few thoughts. I don't normally do long posts, but today I've got a lot on my mind.
In one of the prayers, the person indicated that we were celebrating the life and the actions of Glade. Now we've all heard of the celebration of life, but I found it interesting to think about celebrating the actions of a person. Because of the actions he chose, we can celebrate. Because we know now where he is and what kind of a man he was (just to be clear, he's in his eternal reward, and he's much more than a good man). It makes me ponder what a world of difference his funeral might have been had he chosen other actions. It may not have been a celebration....
Also, there were, by someone's count, over 600 people there. I'd say it's safe to estimate that half were my relatives. It was beautiful to be able to see them and share in joy and celebration and sorrow. I truly have a wonderful family.
My grandpa, who will be turning 88 this year if I'm not mistaken, was there with his beautiful wife. Three of my aunts were there. Also three of my great-aunts and a great-uncle, almost half of my grandpa's siblings, were also there, and several others there in spirit. Countless cousins. Many from Idaho, who got up at 5am or earlier just to be there for the day and then drive back home.
We have a family tradition called the family choir. Whenever anyone asks, mostly at funerals, we sing. We have so many wonderful voices at our disposal. And some voices, like mine, that can carry a tune at least fairly decently are allowed to join too. We can make music to shout and rejoice. We can make music that is soft and sweet. And we love to do it. We drive several miles to add numbers to the choir. We show our respect by showing our talent. We do honor to the loved one by singing in harmony and unison. It is a wondrous thing of which to be a part. The practices are always nice, but the thing is that the musical number during the funeral is always two steps above what we are normally capable of, and I always feel surrounded by love and grace and beauty and warmth. It makes me tingly to think about it. Today was no exception. It was the largest family choir I have ever seen or been in (possible estimate at 70 or more), and we made some of the sweetest music I have ever heard.
On a less somber note, during the light lunch after, among other things we had about 10 varieties of funeral potatoes. I love funeral potatoes! And I got to sit with Great-uncle Ross, Great-aunt Bertha, and Kimber (cousin) and family, and we had a grand time. I learned that my house was built the same year Uncle Ross and Aunt Bertha's dad, my great-grandpa, was born. They had plenty of visitors, so I saw lots of family without needing to leave my seat. And when a cousin brought over his grandson to meet Uncle Ross, the boy was asked a question that I remember being asked when I was the same age (about 6 or 7): "I have four brothers, and EACH of us has 7 sisters. How many kids are there in total in the family?" I smile a broad smile, thinking back on every time I was asked that same question, and how he stumped me several times before I realized the solution.
Answer to follow...
In one of the prayers, the person indicated that we were celebrating the life and the actions of Glade. Now we've all heard of the celebration of life, but I found it interesting to think about celebrating the actions of a person. Because of the actions he chose, we can celebrate. Because we know now where he is and what kind of a man he was (just to be clear, he's in his eternal reward, and he's much more than a good man). It makes me ponder what a world of difference his funeral might have been had he chosen other actions. It may not have been a celebration....
Also, there were, by someone's count, over 600 people there. I'd say it's safe to estimate that half were my relatives. It was beautiful to be able to see them and share in joy and celebration and sorrow. I truly have a wonderful family.
My grandpa, who will be turning 88 this year if I'm not mistaken, was there with his beautiful wife. Three of my aunts were there. Also three of my great-aunts and a great-uncle, almost half of my grandpa's siblings, were also there, and several others there in spirit. Countless cousins. Many from Idaho, who got up at 5am or earlier just to be there for the day and then drive back home.
We have a family tradition called the family choir. Whenever anyone asks, mostly at funerals, we sing. We have so many wonderful voices at our disposal. And some voices, like mine, that can carry a tune at least fairly decently are allowed to join too. We can make music to shout and rejoice. We can make music that is soft and sweet. And we love to do it. We drive several miles to add numbers to the choir. We show our respect by showing our talent. We do honor to the loved one by singing in harmony and unison. It is a wondrous thing of which to be a part. The practices are always nice, but the thing is that the musical number during the funeral is always two steps above what we are normally capable of, and I always feel surrounded by love and grace and beauty and warmth. It makes me tingly to think about it. Today was no exception. It was the largest family choir I have ever seen or been in (possible estimate at 70 or more), and we made some of the sweetest music I have ever heard.
On a less somber note, during the light lunch after, among other things we had about 10 varieties of funeral potatoes. I love funeral potatoes! And I got to sit with Great-uncle Ross, Great-aunt Bertha, and Kimber (cousin) and family, and we had a grand time. I learned that my house was built the same year Uncle Ross and Aunt Bertha's dad, my great-grandpa, was born. They had plenty of visitors, so I saw lots of family without needing to leave my seat. And when a cousin brought over his grandson to meet Uncle Ross, the boy was asked a question that I remember being asked when I was the same age (about 6 or 7): "I have four brothers, and EACH of us has 7 sisters. How many kids are there in total in the family?" I smile a broad smile, thinking back on every time I was asked that same question, and how he stumped me several times before I realized the solution.
Answer to follow...
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