Dad didn’t take his impending departure too seriously. He scoffed at our concerns about leaving him unattended. ”So what if I die while you’re gone? It’s not like I’ll be there to complain about it. I’ll be with my Lord.”
I don’t want to give the impression that we don’t mourn his death, but we haven’t been spending all of our time moping about and fighting tears either. Tears come, of course, but they leave quickly – for me, at least. I don’t think Dad would be offended to know that his loved ones shared plenty of smiles and laughter over the past week. He made plenty of jokes at our expense while he was alive, and was the target of a few as well.
Last Wednesday when I arrived at the emergency room about 90 minutes after Dad, the first thing I heard was that my brother-in-law was on his way with pizza for all of us. The next thing I heard was my own brother quipping, “This is the weirdest place ever for a potluck!” It was a bright moment in a dark time, and we all needed the laugh.
A few hours later, we were assembling at another hospital where Dad had been moved. My new baby nephew had just arrived with his parents, and aunts who had never met him were smiling, laughing and cooing at his fat little cheeks.
Dad died that night, and the following day found his 4 sons hard at work digging Dad’s grave. They had rented a bulldozer for the occasion and must have found the work went more quickly than expected because they decided to dig Mom’s grave too. ”No pressure,” they assured her, chuckling. ”It’s just there when you need it.”
At Dad’s graveside service, 2 family dogs lolled about under the minister’s feet. They were very big but young and gangling and untrained. Before our eyes, they dug cool spots for themselves in the heap of dirt waiting to be shoveled over Dad’s casket and threatened to knock over the flowers or trip the minister when they flopped down next to him. There were snickers from every quarter.
Tomorrow is Dad’s memorial service. Our oldest brother will read his eulogy, a brief summary of a brief life. Later, there will be a time of sharing in which those who knew Dad will be invited to speak. I hope and expect that there will be a few more opportunities to laugh before we try to figure out what “normal life” looks like without Dad.
Dad was known for having “an abrasive personality,” a charge which he met with such surprise and denied with such vehemence that we could only assume he was making a joke at his own expense. I found myself wondering if anyone might show up at his memorial to settle old debts, so to speak. Would somebody be so crass as to speak ill of the dead? But this wouldn’t be such a bad way to remember Dad’s memorial service. He never minced words and might be just a little impressed and amused at anyone who had the gall to speak their mind at a time like that.
are the ultimate in early readers. Even a child who doesn’t know the entire alphabet can experience the sense of accomplishment that comes from reading an entire book on her own.
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