Remembrance

Remembrance

I had not left my husband's side, and had not been home in weeks.  I had been living in the ICU and in Hospice Care with Wayne.  

While Wayne is now living in Eternal Life, healed and restored, I came home to a house full of memories, with exhaustion, physical pain, and a broken heart.

I had to go into a different mental mode when I came home.  Not a time to grieve, but to plan - writing an obituary, deciding when to have calling hours, choosing which casket and which plot, helping with service details in how to best honor Wayne, giving my own testimony, when to have internment, and so on.   My sister moved in for a few days to help, distracting me, and entertaining and caring for my child.

~~~

After decisions were made, first came the calling hours at our home Church.  Seeing my husband's conducting baton, tied to a music stand, brought tears to my eyes.  That baton was held in his gentle hands, connected to Wayne, helping him to guide others in music.  There was a beautiful large poster board print of our family, with our arms entwined around each other forming a heart; smiles on our faces.  Posters, banners, cards, and notes from students past and present were on the walls.  A slideshow of photos and drum corps videos played.  Beautiful flowers surrounded the front by my husband's open casket.  

My 7 year old son and I walked up to Dadda's earthly body, and my son patted his arm.  He asked to touch Dadda's skin, and he remarked that it was cold.  He knows this body is only a shell, wrapped in Dadda's recital suit from his college days.

As I waited in the receiving line, I heard "I'm sorry", or "It's not fair", or "He was so young".  And, here I was, trying to smile, be a light, and doing my best to comfort you.  I am glad to have served you in this way, and perhaps your statements have some truth to them, because I know you hurt and miss him too.

My husband would have said:

"There is nothing to be sorry for, because you did not cause this."

"Maybe it seems unfair, but if not me, then who?"

"Jesus was young when he died, and His suffering gave us eternal life.  There is purpose, even in suffering."

I could not bring these words to you then, for I could only mutter "Thank you", or "Thank you for coming", but here they are now, for these are truth to me.  My heart still hurts, but I know that Wayne is eternally healed.

After calling hours were over and we had prayed, my son and I had a private moment in Church. We touched Dadda's body again, and then my son chose to help the funeral director lower Dadda's body and lock the casket.  What an incredibly faithful and obedient kid.  

~~~

The next day was the service - a service of honoring Wayne.  My son and I were two of the pallbearers that brought the casket in and out.  Again, what an inspiring, faith-filled kid he is.  The casket was heavy.  But, by allowing him to be a part of taking care of Dadda and his family, I know this will give us memories to help us heal our hurting hearts.

I had always known that Wayne had wanted a drum corps to play at his funeral, but during brief moments of communication in the hospital, we were able to further discuss what else he wanted.  Wayne had a hand in what the service would be like.  This was a service of musical celebration and remembrance, and a service of sharing and telling about God and His promises.   

We had to use another Church because we knew that Wayne's impact on the community and more, would fill more seats than our home Church could handle.  So, we were in a Church with large stained glass windows, a balcony, and high ceilings, setting the stage for that classic "Church sound"; an environment that allows notes to echo and bounce to each listener.  There was a praise band, drum corps ensemble, an acoustic guitar with song, a Euphonium solo accompanied by piano, audio clips of Wayne singing a solo, and another of a song that he wrote and sang for our son's baptism.  All of the music held a special significance in relation to Wayne.  

There were video testimonies of Wayne's impact in others' lives.  The pastor's message was a reminder of the promise of eternal life, and that we need to make that intentional choice to follow Jesus, just as Wayne did.  

It was all beautiful, as my son leaned against me, tears in our eyes.  But, especially beautiful was the scene, that many told about from further back in the Church.  When the drum corps ensemble reached a melodious crescendo, the sun broke through, shining a gold spotlight into the Church.  Just like when we wheeled Wayne outside during our stay in the ICU,  the sun shone down on us, spreading the warmth and light of that moment.  Thank you God.

~~~

The next day was a private internment in the cemetery - the one that we as a family have spent time in - running, walking, and geocaching.  It has hills and historic monuments.  It is especially beautiful in the Fall.  

My son and I again were two of the pallbearers.  With our shoes crunching over snow still unmelted, and the wind casting a chilly breeze, the sun shone yet again.  I still had Dadda's coat in the van, so I wrapped it around my son.  He says, "I want to keep this coat, so that I can wear it and think of him."  I am wrapped in a blue blanket from the funeral home, and family sits with us on the chairs in front of the casket.  We read responsive words, pray, and say final good-byes.  

Wayne has played Amazing Grace at other funerals on the flute, and now it's his turn to be honored with this familiar, comforting tune.  The beautiful flute solo plays, holding it's tune, despite the cold air.  My son and I place single roses, wrapped with ribbons of blue and musical patterns on Dadda's casket.    Since we already said good-bye on the day Wayne died, I hold my son in front of it and say, "We miss you, and will hold you in our hearts forever."

As we head to our cars, my son says he wants to go back once more.  So, we walk, the two of us, back to Dadda's casket, and we tell him we love him.

~~~

And so now, here I sit, in the quietness, finally with time to grieve; reading thoughtful cards and messages; trying to write and express my emotion.  

And, yes, I am inwardly focused, focusing on my loss, my hurt, my feelings of emptiness.  But I know, for even when I am in this pain, God is still with me, letting me be human, letting these emotions out.  

I am in our house, where memories of Wayne come flooding in, because his presence still feels so very near.  God is here too, and we will wrap ourselves in His comfort, while we mourn for a while.

Many of you have offered to help.  Please be the hands and feet of Jesus to everyone, not just me.  Do not just offer these words and wait to be asked, but act upon it.  Many of you have commented on my strength during this journey and that is Glory to God.  

And so I ask you, please pray for us, for the journey will continue, and at times the path seems quite unclear, and the strength feels as if it is faltering.  My grief clouds my mind and so for now, I rest.

Reflection Verses:

God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matthew 5:4 NLT)
No, I will not abandon you as orphans—I will come to you.  Soon the world will no longer see me, but you will see me. Since I live, you also will live.  When I am raised to life again, you will know that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. (John 14:18-20 NLT)