What a Wonderful Funeral

A few years ago I lost my dad. As an adult child I drove my mom to the hospital every day and watched as two lovers were saying their goodbys. From the time we were given the diagnosis of stage 4 cancer, it was like our life was on hold. Everything stopped and our family’s focus was to help ease my father and mother through this transition . We also needed to let my parents spend as much time together as they were given.

My mom and dad met when they were very young, and lived their whole lives committed to each other. I did not grow up in a perfect household by any means. Our family had their struggles, I saw my parents get in arguments many times. However, my dad, no matter how the day went, ended his day giving my mom a kiss goodnight. He never went to bed mad. My father loved his family unconditionally. We were perfect in his eyes. He never seen our flaws, and as children were raised with a sence of self confidence and believed we could do anything this world offered us. My dad was a dreamer and a storyteller. So are his children.

Knowing that death was coming gave us a window of opportunity to get things right with my father. We spent so much time reminsing our past and funny life stories. One of the hardest things was seeing the love between my elderly mother and my father. He looked at my Mom like she was 17 years old. His face would light up and his blue eyes would just twinkle when he saw her coming into the room. As an adult, it made me a little envious, they had such a special type of love between them. We were able discuss my fathers funeral wishes and things like how he wanted his estate divided. All those uncomfortable questions we never seemed to ask when he was healthy.

So, my dad one day decided to tell my mom he wanted to be laid out in the family home. He did not want to go to a funeral home. He told my mom to put his casket in front of the dining room window overlooking the hill. He told my mom, just arrainge chairs in the dining room, people can come to the house for visitation. He wanted to be carried out of the family homestead, like his grandfather was. We have a little family cementary at the bottom of the hill and he wanted to be carried there. And, he requested someone sing at his funeral “He stopped loving her today” by George Jones.

Well, that caused us kids a little concern. We told mom, that is not the way things are done today. I mean where are people going to park, how are we going to fit all the visitors in the house. Are caskets even built today to be carried such a distance, will the handles even hold. It was just unheard of. You want to keep his body in the home for a couple of days. I tried to disuead my mother, but to no avail. She had her mind made up, she was going to honour her husbands wishes and that was that.

So, the day of visitation came. People from all over our little village came to visit and say their goodbyes. People brought home made bread, casseroles farewell wishes and sympathy cards. Many would walk by the casket in the dining room and touch my dads cheek, or tap his casket as they walked by. As the day proceeded, many stories were told. People were laughing and then the guitars came out and people were singing. Everyone had their time to speak or sing. It was a wonderful time the night before the funeral. Dad was right in the middle of everything. I could just imagine him laughing and saying to us, “see, I knew you could do it”. My sister even sang “he stopped loving her today”. It turned into a party and a time of rejoicing.

The next morning it was the day of the funeral. It had rained all the week and us kids we worried for the pallbearerS. The hill would be slippery if it was raining, how could the pallbearers carry my dad down a hill without falling. However, we woke up to a bright September day. Family was all around my Mom, we all kissed our father goodbye and the pastor closed his casket. The pallbearers led the family to our little graveyard at the bottom of the hill. My father was buried beside his father, and his grandfather and great grandfather. My dads favorite flower was a simple daisy. All his little great grandchildren threw daisys on his casket. The whole top of his casket was covered with daisys. We sang some songs and said our good byes as my father was lowered in the ground. There is this big old Maple tree in the graveyard and it gives such nice shade, but that day the most amazing beam of light shone from heaven and pointed right on my dads grave. What a fitting end to the most beautiful funeral I have ever been to.

In my fathers wisdom, I guess he knew we all need this closure. We needed to laugh, sing and rejoice. Even though our hearts were broken because he was gone. Grief is a weird emotion. And everyone needs to deal with it in their own way. I am just glad my Mother and her stubborn Irish determination did not let us talk her out of the funeral plans. I have never experienced an Irish funeral and I am so glad I did. It truely helped me heal. People in the community told us they have never been to such a nice funeral. It was the sending off my father wanted and was given. We always think the funeral home is our only option, but it isn’t. My dad showed me that. All the family walked back up the hill, shaking their heads and laughing. I know my father was laughing right along side of us. What a wonderful funeral.