Dad's Funeral

December 31, 2008

And so ends another year.  If this year's Christmas was different, New Years Eve was down right weird, in a good way, though.  We held dad's funeral today. Mom decided it was best to have it today, on the holiday, to make it easier for those who had to take off work and travel. 


It was a good day. I wore the same dress I've worn for funerals for the past few years. I wore it to Peggy Hipp's funeral, Wanda Strebeck's, Uncle Leo's, and Grandma Ashcroft's. (It does seem like we've had a rash of funerals lately. Is this what getting older is all about?)


Our family met at the mortuary this morning to spend some time alone with dad before going to the church for the funeral. I had to leave early so I could help my counselors set up for the funeral dinner this afternoon. (I was called to be Relief Society President in our ward during the previous summer.) After getting things set up for the dinner I arranged a table in the foyer with pictures and photograph boards which my little sister, Julie, and mom had made. They really worked hard, and there were hundreds of snapshots as well as other pictures of dad and our family. It was awesome!


I was putting on the tablecloth when Lari Smith and Debbie Allen, from our ward down in Gilbert, walked in. I couldn't believe my eyes! Cynthia Peters was right behind her, and soon the Guthries and the Candlands and the Shumways and the Loftgreens and the Caffalls and even Natalie Hunt came. You know, I hadn't really cried since dad passed away, but I sure did then. It was wonderful of all of them to make the long trip to Snowflake, in the snow, just to honor dad.


I realized then that I'd enjoyed living up in Snowflake so much the past year that I hadn't really missed our old friends, until that moment. Suddenly, though, I was thoroughly homesick for the old days, our old home, and our friends.


We had the viewing in the Relief Society room.  Moe and I spent most of the time standing close to the door, welcoming our friends and thanking everyone for coming. Sheldon, (my ex-husband) and his mom and brother came. Lorrie (Sheldon's second ex-wife) came in a few minutes later.


“Thank you for coming,” I told her after she gave me a hug.


“I had to,” she assured me. “I knew you would need my support.”


It wasn't very nice of me, but I couldn't help thinking that I didn't need either Sheldon or Lorrie to be there, and I ungraciously suspected that the only reason she came was because she didn't want Sheldon to do something she didn't get to do, and vice-versus. Only, really and truly, I suspect Sheldon came because he still respected and loved dad.


Quite a few people from our ward in Snowflake were there, which was very nice of them since mom and dad have only lived here a short time and they really haven't had a chance to get to know many people.


Mom's brother and sisters and some of their children, and dad's younger brother came, as well as a number of his other relatives. It was amazing how many special people made the long trip just to honor dad and support mom. We had supposed it would be a very small funeral, but it wasn't.


My older brother, Keith, gave dad's life history. My brother-in-law, Alan, played the violin while we sang. My sisters and I stood together, and told memories of dad, then my younger brother, Phillip, spoke about dad and the gospel. He talked about how having faith, hope and charity, and humor can help us through whatever happens, and love it. To emphasize his point, Phil told the story of dad digging out the septic tank up at the cabin when we were little, and I flushed the toilet on him. Of all the stories in our family that should go down in history, was that really the one to remember?


Then the older granddaughters sang, “To fill the World With Love.” Of course, this time I made a number of mistakes as I accompanied, but it was still beautiful. The funeral lasted a few minutes over an hour, but I think it made dad happy.


At the cemetery the sun was shining and it was a lovely day, probably close to 60 degrees. When we first checked with the cemetery to see about getting a plot they told us we would have to bury dad in a temporary one until they finished their new addition. That didn't sound very good, but what could we do? Then, last Saturday we found out that someone had called and turned back in three plots that they didn't want, right in the middle of the cemetery, so mom was able to buy two of them. Another tender mercy. It is a very nice spot, and the graveside was sweet. Keith dedicated the grave, and all the grandchildren took a red rose from the wreath on dad's casket.


After the funeral dinner we went back to mom's house. She was tired, of course, but not too bad. When she got home there was a message from the nursing home that they still had dad's wedding ring and someone should come over to pick it up. Mom wanted to send them some of the flowers, too, so I took a bouquet and drove over.


I went alone, since the rest of the family was happily visiting. As I drove down Main Street I thought about all the times during the past four months that I had driven dad home to be with mom, then back to the nursing home. I could almost imagined dad still sitting there, in the passenger seat.  Suddenly, I felt like he really was there. I started to dismiss the feeling, but realized immediately that I had felt his presence before, and this felt the same. I knew he was there. For three or four minutes I talked to dad one more time, telling him I loved him, and thanks for being my dad. It was so sweet. Before I got to the Carriage House he was gone, but the tears were still in my eyes.


We spent the evening at mom's, after all, it was New Year's Eve. Kami wasn't feeling well. (Actually, neither was I. I had been getting sick for the past two days, and my nose ran and my head ached as much from being sick as from crying.) Anyway, the rest of the family stayed at mom's and I went home about 11:30 and finished watching a movie with Kami when she woke up. We rang in the New Year sleepily, then went to bed, thus ending the strangest New Year's Eve I had ever lived through, and the saddest year. But maybe sad is a relative term.