Waking up Saturday morning, I realized that this journey would now include another funeral. I dreaded attending because I feared that I would be a gloppy mess of mascara and eye makeup at the end. I also feared my father’s reaction as this would be the first one since my mother passed away.
Despite the worries, my eyes stayed dry, my father remained composed, and I felt a sense of peace as I reflected on the blessing of a quick passing instead of a lengthy illness.
One of the defining moments occurred when listening to my high school nephew share memories of his grandfather. He spoke clearly and peppered his reflections with fishing events and Grandparents’ Day at his high school.
The day ended with a luncheon and me taking some photos. I found myself feeling thankful that it went okay, but also hoping it would be the last funeral I would need to attend. But why do I keep feeling like there will be more?
A Journey Worth Remembering 