Sunday

We had the service for my dad on Sunday. It was good. My uncle Randy organized it (by my request), and hosted it. He did a really good job for someone who wanted to cry the entire time. I did too, and I'm not sure I would have done any better. The biggest thing was the slide show, which I'll try to upload some form of. It hit me pretty hard. Seeing my dad, as a person... unto himself... was amazing. Watching him move from chapter to chapter, within his own life... into the realm of "my father". It was bizarre seeing so much of his life play out in front of us, about which I really had no idea. I mean, I listened to the stories he told. I knew the basic path of his life... but to see it. To watch him form baby to kid to college grad to man to father of one to husband to father of two... and then finally into the man I remember... It was overwhelming. I realized I was mourning the loss of someone much greater than I knew. Could know. Afterword, Randy asked people to share memories of dad... and I wanted to stand up... say a thousand things. Let everyone know who he was, to me. But I just sat there, unsure of how I would even start. Instead uncle Randy and uncle Jack went back and forth with memories of their childhood... some of the stories were familiar... I could have listened to those stories all day. All week. It was like basking in the sun.

When I was in high school, we were asked to make a predictive time-line for our lives, and I went into a certain level of detail in hoping what my life would turn out to be. Looking back at it now, and comparing is both funny and a little sobering. I put in conjectural dates for my parents' deaths and funerals (not out of morbidity--they were both set to live into their nineties, as I recall), and mentioned that each one had a beautiful service. I think I was imagining something epic. Poets giving readings, full orchestras playing suites that represented their lives, and fireworks, or 21 gun salutes or something. I wanted trees to fade from green to brown, rain to come and go on cue, and the earth itself to weep.

None of this happened, of course. As much as what actually happened made sense--and was good--I think, somehow, dad deserved even better. I am so appreciative of Randy's hard work--it was wonderful what he did, and how it all played out. And I'm so thankful for the family and friends that showed up and hung out. But, ya know. It could never have been enough for him.