We got back last night from our trip to Savannah for my father's funeral. The funeral was Saturday. I thought I could get through the service without crying, but I was wrong. As my cousin said after the service, "Boy, that part when they play 'Taps' will get you every time, won't it?!?"
My father was a veteran of WWII, so they played Taps and did the presentation of the flag. I couldn't look up during that part. I did finally look up when the serviceman presented the US flag to my mother. The serviceman's hand was shaking when he saluted - I could tell it was emotional for him, too. That must be a hard duty to perform.
The weirdest thing was seeing my father's name on the Order of Service program. It is very surreal. My eyes saw it but my brain said, 'hey, they have the wrong name there.'...like that name shouldn't be there, they made a mistake. That must be that stage of grief called denial, eh?
It did offset the pain to get to see all my brothers and sisters together. Because we live all over the country, it's been 20 years since we've all been together. I wish we could have spent more time.
My mother wanted us all to go to church with her on Mother's Day and we did. I enjoy getting to go back to church there, because it's the same church in which I was married.
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