The Funeral

My Grandfather's Funeral was today. At 11am this morning. The little chappel that the service was held in was a small one, in a little triangle shape. The service started out with a preacher talking, then I got up and gave a eulogy that my aunt had written. (Everyone said it went really well when I read it, but I can only assume it was the drama training, because honestly I felt a little nervous and I found myself wondering, as I was reading it, how on earth any pastor could feel comfortable behind that podium. It was a massive wooden block and it made me feel very small. ) After I had said my peace some other people talked, and another pastor got up. My cousin read a poem he wrote, and my brother played a hymn on his trumpet.

After the service we kind of lined up as people filled out and they all said their condolences. (Which always seemed a bit weird to me, mainly because I had no idea who these people were, but they seemed to know my grandfather.)

My Dad, my brother, my uncle, two cousins and myself were the pallbearers. It was my dad, myself and my bother on one side and my uncle, my cousin John and my cousin Matt on the other side.

I think the part that moved me the most during the whole service was when we at graveside and while my brother was playing taps they were folding the flag on my grandfather's grave. WHen my brother was done they handed the flag to my grandmother and said, "On behalf of the president of the united states and our nation we thank you."

I've heard that sometimes at funerals people get a drastic new view of life, yet I don't think that happened for me. I felt like the whole thing was a testimony to how much life the rest of us have to live.

My first funeral, the first death I have expirenced in my family. As expirences go, I would have to say this wasn't a bad one. I had some quality family time as well, which was very good.

~B.