A Day of Rememberence

So I sort of felt I would be remiss if I didn't finish my journey with you. I guess if you're really morbid you may not want to view this particular post, but I have been journaling to include my readers as well as giving myself a type of therapy. In the past my thoughts and emotions as I have lost loved ones have always been kept to myself.

I have found though that I heal much more easily when I don't bottle up those feelings and emotions. As one might expect today was a journey down memory lane. Not just memories of this aunt and uncle, but memories of funerals past. I have been to more than my fair share of funerals over the years. I have watched mothers cry for their children, children cry for their mom's and dads and friends weep at the loss of a

beloved friend. I have weeped with them and for them and sometimes even for myself. I have seen many different types of funerals. Some very emotional, some where emotion wasn't allowed in the room with the body (which I felt a little strange about) and ones that were all inclusive. In the south the way funerals use to be ( I say this because I don't know if they still do it) the bodies were taken to the church house and were never left alone. I believe Jerry Clowers, the comedian, use to have a storey he would tell of these types. I remember when my grandmother Lula died that she was at the Old Baptist church with people sitting up with her all through the night and day until she was laid to rest in the Short Cemetery out on the hill from her home. She joined her daughter and husband a slue of other relatives there. In these services, church service are held the night before with the body there in the church and full church services are held the day of the burial. If you're a friend of mine hold onto your hat because if I had my wish this would be the type of burial I would want. It's a real hell and brimstone type of service, but it's one that draws emotions and helps to heal. It's what I would want, but I have told my parents to do what they wish. I mean the service is for the ones left behind after all. Today I watched as each of my cousins and my uncle dealt with their grief in their own way. Each one's unique, but grief none the less. My uncle looked as if he had suit cases for eyelids where he had cried so much. My cousin April just looked numb with disbelief. My cousin who had said she couldn't stand the though of seeing her mom in the coffin cried and appeared to have the healthiest grip, even though I felt some anger out of her. I suppose I would be angry too. It's a part of grief. My cousin Robbie chose to sit in the back of the church, not up front with his family. I'm unsure of why. I know he loved his mother, but even at the grave he stood in the back separated from the rest. Perhaps his way of attempting to keep it from being so real. Songs were sung. Not an unusual thing for a funeral. One thing that was unusual though was that I was looking at my aunt Arlene and for a moment the thought went through my mind: "Where is uncle Roger?"

It was just brief and it stunned me some as I bit into the reality that he had died over three years earlier. The drive to the cemetery seemed long. It was nice to see people who still knew how to respect the situation though. It's considered an act of respect for cars coming in the opposite direction to pull over and stop while the funeral procession passes. I think most people either lack respect here in Fort Wayne or are unaccustomed because I rarely see it here, but there were tons of them that did it in Corona. As we pulled into the cemetery we were quite a few cars back and my brother was a pawl barrier so he jumped out and took off to meet the hearses. My poor brother. I asked him how many times he had been a pawl barrier today and he replied with too many times to count. I believe it too. After a while if you let it, it can really bog down your mind. I mean how many people I knew that are no longer here. No longer within my grasp to speak with or see. Graveside was short and to the point. Flowers were given and just like that a life was passed from the ones that loved here to the Father in heaven. At least I hope my aunt Sandy made it to heaven. I'm not sure I know. There are people I'm fairly certain have. My grandmother, My aunt Ruth, my Uncle Roger to name a few. I know that as awful as this whole thing has been, it also was a good thing to see family I hadn't seen in years. One cousin I hadn't seen since we were little. One I use to baby sit for and she has such a loving nature. Distant cousins, aunts, uncles were all saying the same thing: "Why is it we only seem to get together for funerals?" Society is so busy these days. Somehow I think we've all forgotten that time with family and friends is more precious than any movie, any game, any musical or even job we may have scheduled. Time is fleeting and few. I remember playing with my aunt. We played kickball in a field out from my house prior to her marrying my uncle. Then when she had her first baby at thirteen we played dress up with her baby. She was just a kid herself. This is the final chapter to the saga though on my aunt Sandy. I thank all of you that sent me wishes of sympathy. May God smile on you all and give you many more years with those you love.

Go Rest High, on that mountain, go as high as you can go, Go to heaven a shouting.......