So About That Buffalo Herd Called Life…

My father passed away.  Rather than go into a litany of his virtues and foibles, I’d like to remember him here for his funeral.  My father was ill for a long time, and had the chance to think about what he wanted his funeral to be like.  And I don’t mean what kind of coffin or the other things people mean when they talk about pre-planning.  I mean the emotion in the room.

Dad chose the hymns, including one that Mother But-Honest hates.  He chose the prayers, and the readings, and the persons to read them.  The eulogy was given by a former pastor of our church known for his humor and kind nature.  He even gave us the chance to hear Amazing Grace played on a banjo.  My father wanted his funeral to be a celebration of not only his life, but his passing from the material realm to that of spiritual grace.  There were tears, yes, but there was also laughter.  It made remembering him bring smiles.

Will we miss him?  You bet we will.  But his thoughtfulness made saying goodbye a lot less painful.  Thanks, Dad.

This was originally posted on my old blog, Middle Class Poor.

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