Thursday, June 2, 2016

Two Months Post #3

His funeral was beautiful and while he wouldn't have approved of the praise, it was very fitting.  All the sister-in-laws participated as they could and wanted to.  We wanted everyone else to see what a man of faith he was. Devoted. Loving. Funny. Kind. Christ-like.

I sang with the grandkids and my husband's sisters.  We sang "A Child's Prayer". The grandkids sang the first verse and the women sang the second. 

We're not as good as the video, but it was perfect. If I could change anything, I would have wanted my children there to sing for him. When we were practicing (I am so glad we practiced), the thought came to my mind, "I wish my children we here."  And then my SIL said something about my kids and I started crying.  Then she started crying, her sister started crying, and my other SIL, who was playing the piano said later, 'Oh don't get her crying...then we will all be crying.' True to form, we were all crying by the time the song was over.  It was a funny/sad/bonding moment.

And surprisingly, I almost made it through the song without crying.  I did spend a lot of time looking at the ceiling instead of the crowd I make it through.

There were funny parts. There were really sad parts. Our #5 and two other deceased grandkids are the only ones to never sit with grandpa and watch movies at the foot of his bed, eating an enormous amount of popcorn.

My parents and sister came.  I was so grateful to see them there.  They pretty much took care of Claire for me (okay so she pretty much spend the whole time in my sister or my husband's best friend's arms) so I could sit next to my husband and hold his hand.  But I could barely look at him. I knew if I looked at his bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks I was done for.  I snuck a look twice and tried my best to remain composed.  Not an easy task.

I rode with my husband's best friend to the graveside. We laughed so hard sharing stories. He spent countless hours with my husband and family since he was so little. He's considered another Uncle. My kids call him Uncle and one of our sons carries his middle name. After his dedication, my Mother-in-law went up to him and said something to the effect of, "Just know He really loved you, You were considered another son."  I thought that was amazing.  In her grief, she was comforting us. She specifically comforted him.

My husband dedicated the grave. I prayed for him the whole time. His dedication was beautiful, heartfelt, but more importantly, peaceful. It was absolutely surreal to watch my FIL's casket be lowered in the ground.  I still have a hard time comprehending it.

I never regretted not being able to see him.  He knew I loved him.  And I knew without a doubt, he loved me.  He never needed to tell me.  I already knew.

And finally, on to those tender mercies...

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