29 Going on 79

As my eyes filled with tears and I worked to hold back any audible sounds of crying, the third eulogist stood to give a tribute to her Father. At the same time the woman behind me hissed "oh for pity's sake, how many are there?" Her pew neighbor tried to shush her and I immediately went from silent sobbing to trying to conceal a big smile. The funeral was one of the most beautiful and moving tributes I have ever had the privilege of attending.

We arrived at the church at 6:30 and my older companion immediately cut in line to sign the guest book and greet the family. It wrapped around the inside of two different lobbies and we found ourselves towards the front of the line. Of course all the while the people behind us casually discussed line crashers and ditchers and announced the amount of time they had been standing in line. My little white-haired, 78 year old companion could get away with line ditching - sort of. But I seemed the lazy 20-something who just didn't feel like standing in line. Cool.

The service started promptly at 7:00 and was planned entirely by the deceased - Malcolm. He struggled with lung cancer for a year and we were told that he took comfort in knowing he could share some of his favorite things with all of us after his passing. It started out with a touching photo slideshow and the song I Can Only Imagine. There were five eulogies AND a sermon - which the minister confessed was also directed by Malcolm. Almost an hour and a half later, a lone bag-piper played Amazing Grace inside the sanctuary. He continued playing in the back as the family was escorted out of the sanctuary. We happened to be in the second to last row, so when he played the last note of the song, the mourners all kind of breathed a collective sigh and we seemed to wipe our eyes in unison. As we stood, my companion turned to me and said "well, I think we can go now. We certainly sent him off the best we could!"

Of course the same little old lady behind me hissed these parting words when the bagpiper finished - "Thank goodness we sat in the back, now I can hardly hear!" I wonder precisely when it is that you reach the age where you attend more funerals than social events and can comfortably exclaim your pleasure or displeasure at the course of events during the service. I might have to rethink my own funeral plans - lying in state in the museum's parlor seems a bit garish now.