I buried my father yesterday. It was a beautiful service. I think he would have approved. It was cold and rainy Saturday. I was disappointed that the weather wasn't nicer, and at the same time it seemed more appropriate. Its always disconcerting when you feel miserable on a lovely day.
We had the service under the old Newberry church. Its just a pavilion really. Its old and rustic; what you would imagine a church revival to take place in. I believe it dates back to the 1800s.
There are two rows of wooden pews. We set up a table with pictures of my father.
The service began with our friend Coitt playing the bagpipes. He played The Bells of Dunblaine--my favorite bagpipe song. My cousin Lu connected us with one of the Methodist ministers from her church. Jason, the minister, was fabulous. I couldn't have asked for a better sermon.
After the sermon, I gave a eulogy honoring my father, his best friend went next, and then my cousin Ronnie. Then the minister spoke again.
At the end, Coitt led everyone to the gravesite playing Going Home. The hearse took my father to the site and once there, the military honor guard carried him to the place over his grave.
They folded the American flag, then fired three rounds. One honor guard handed me the flag on "behalf of the president and a grateful nation." He then placed the bullet shells from the rounds in my hand. Then Coitt played Amazing Grace and the minister concluded the funeral.
1 comment:
oh my sweet, I don't know what else to say. It's hard to hold it together as well as you did.
If you want, I can show you how to invisible-sew those shells into a display box if you want to set them somewhere. They won't corrode out(tho they will patina) so long as they are kept dry.
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