In Kentucky, in a 60’s era Nazarene church with stained glass windows, the service started with a heavy feeling. The silence made more ominous only by the wailing of the widow and the oldest daughter. As Taps were played after a very respectful Veteran presentation, you could hear the proof of many tears in the crowd by the sniffling from grown men trying to fight their emotions.
We said goodbye to Uncle James on a Friday morning. He was dressed in his Liberty overalls with his Tums in his pocket, his work gloves in one hand, his Bible and a picture of his family in the other, his watch in his pocket, and a Moon-pie by his head. It’s the exact way to remember him – just as he was.
In life, he was peaceful, patient, kind, faithful, loving, gentle and good. He was slow speaking, quick to laugh, and remembered everyone’s name and stories. His smile was infectious.
Although we know he is no longer hurting, no longer in pain, and he’s in his beautiful eternity, it doesn’t console our sadness. To be without him here makes Earth even more unbearable.