Mom's Funeral

Yesterday was my Mom's funeral. Ugh. It was hard. Really hard, starting with walking in the church. It proceeded to be a series of hard moments, mixed with small moments of joy in between. There were so many people at the funeral to the point that it was standing room only in the church. I saw a baby sitter from 30 years ago who had heard, friends from church, friends from work (including my boss, John, who gets the award for traveling the furthest distance. He flew up from NC to be at my Mom's funeral). All of our spouse's extended families came from all over. People really made big sacrifices to be there, like Ed & Stacy who were in different states, re-routed their plans, met up together and bought clothes when they got here. This is just one of a lot of stories of people who made a huge effort to be there because my Mom was special to them.

Walking into the sanctuary started my tears going and they kept coming. The funeral started with bagpipes, which I love. We had them at my Grandpa's funeral and my Great Grandma's funeral (both being natively from Scotland) and I love the sound of them, but it was sad to hear them. I overheard my 5 year old Emily behind me after the bagpipe player finished: "Wow, I'm glad that's done", which made me smile.

I was selected as the mouth of the family to eulogize my Mom (I'm sure my siblings meant mouthpiece, but they kept saying I was the "mouth" of the family. Go figure). I shared what an abundant life my Mom had and how it radiated from her in how she loved babies, loved the people around her, love stories, loved to celebrate, and loved God in a mighty way. I made it through most of it without crying. Her amazing life made it so easy to share her story. Most of all, I know that my Mom would have wanted people to know that she was not able to pour out her life the way she did without having a firm foundation and the love of God constantly pouring into her, so I shared that.

We joked with my Dad that this was the best our family has ever been in church. Typically on Christmas Eve, the whole family goes together, taking up 2 rows at my Mom's church. An average Christmas service at St. Luke involves us poking each other, whispering back and forth, mocking each other and trying to burn each other and their church program during the candle light portion of the service.

My Mom's pastor, Pastor Dave Davis shared a very cool sermon about my Mom as a leader in the world around her. As a side note, I've gotta say that I don't know a ton of Lutheran Pastors, but this guy rocked. I'd seen him before at Christmas at my Mom's church, but first met him when he was at my Grandma's visiting her. He had a sense of humor, great counsel and was very moved by by Mom's loss. If I was going to a Lutheran church, it'd be his.

At the end, we moved the casket out into the car. My friends Will, Noel and Mike and three of Sherry's four boys: Adam, Bill and Nate. Again, another tear-jerking moment in the process. We headed back in for a luncheon and got a chance to catch up with friends we hadn't seen in years and hear some more great stories on my Mom and catch up with people that I hadn't seen in forever. I saw one of my brother's friends who I knew from Campus Life that became a Catholic Priest who's now in Ann Arbor (I pumped him to see if he was part of the DaVinci Code Conspiracy) and looks like Friar Tuck - complete with beard and hair. It was good to catch up, but the circumstances to do it sucked.

We headed over to the graveyard for the burial. The last step in the process. Pastor Davis said a few words, we prayed and then said our tearful goodbyes. It was a very intimate setting and one of the first times I'd been in this situation at a cemetery. We all took roses from the casket, hugged and stood there silently for a minute. As we stood around the casket, I whispered to my Dad, "I'll be Mom would think it was funny if I stood in front of her casket and sung The Gambler acapella while Dan and Jon did the motions." We laughed together and then headed home.


Noel snapped this picture of my middle-daughter, Maddie, looking underneath the casket, and I later looked as well.