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Busy week. My mother was 99 when she passed. I don't want sympathy. We lost her a few years ago. That's when we mourned. She had gotten to the point where all she could do was survive.
The scene at her grave site service inspired me to write my observations. I think you will be able to pretty much see the scene.
This could be long, but the scene at my mother's burial could not have been scripted and envisioned better by any Hollywood producer.
The funeral director was tall and thin. He wore absolute black clothes. I told my wife, Robby, that if central casting was looking for a funeral director for a movie, they would pick him. She recognized him immediately from that description.
The graveside service was better than anything you could imagine seeing by someone producing that type of scene.
The funeral director was in absolute black leading the pall bearers carrying the pure white casket.
Then there was the tall gray-haired minister walking through an inch of snow to the grave site using a cane and wearing a fedora. The view was pure Kansas. There was nothing in the background except a farm field with a light covering of snow. The view went on forever.
If a movie director would have backed up and taken a shot of the people at the grave site, there would have been black cowboy hats in the shot.
Out in the country with nothing but farm fields in the background. My "preacher's kid" Mom having her favorite minister conducting the service, even though he's retired. My Grandpa was a Mennonite minister.
This was a celebration of life. There was some sadness, but there was some happiness that my mother's suffering had ended.
I play guitar and I used to sing before the cancer surgery on my neck. I can't sing a lick any more, but I had them play the song I wanted to do during the meal.
The scene at her grave site service inspired me to write my observations. I think you will be able to pretty much see the scene.
This could be long, but the scene at my mother's burial could not have been scripted and envisioned better by any Hollywood producer.
The funeral director was tall and thin. He wore absolute black clothes. I told my wife, Robby, that if central casting was looking for a funeral director for a movie, they would pick him. She recognized him immediately from that description.
The graveside service was better than anything you could imagine seeing by someone producing that type of scene.
The funeral director was in absolute black leading the pall bearers carrying the pure white casket.
Then there was the tall gray-haired minister walking through an inch of snow to the grave site using a cane and wearing a fedora. The view was pure Kansas. There was nothing in the background except a farm field with a light covering of snow. The view went on forever.
If a movie director would have backed up and taken a shot of the people at the grave site, there would have been black cowboy hats in the shot.
Out in the country with nothing but farm fields in the background. My "preacher's kid" Mom having her favorite minister conducting the service, even though he's retired. My Grandpa was a Mennonite minister.
This was a celebration of life. There was some sadness, but there was some happiness that my mother's suffering had ended.
I play guitar and I used to sing before the cancer surgery on my neck. I can't sing a lick any more, but I had them play the song I wanted to do during the meal.
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