Exactly 3 months after Kevin's father was laid to rest, my own father was buried. We were fortunate that it wasn't snowing. It wasn't bitterly cold, though it was cold enough. 
Blankets, mittens, hats and heavy coats were put to use. Although we had known this day was coming--had known it since last March when Dad fell and broke his hip, still this was so final. Over the summer and fall, Dad had begun to lose the ability to recognize family members. His Alzheimer's was progressing. His hip didn't heal and he was confined to his bed or a reclining wheel chair. After Thanksgiving he seemed to lose his will to live. Even his beloved tapioca pudding became hated. He slept more. He awoke less. Until he wouldn't wake up even to eat or drink. And then he didn't wake up again.
The funeral was beautiful; healing; peaceful; comforting. We laughed and cried as memories of Dad were shared. He had his flaws (like not being able to complete a sentence without some kind of expletive), but it was good to focus on the good he accomplished by his life.
Like serving during World War II.
Like being a loving brother and son.
Raising two families.
Instilling a love of fishing, hunting, & camping in his children.
Living a decent life.
Oddly, I feel closer to my dad now that he has moved to the next life. He had never been out to Iowa to see where we lived, but now he can see it. I also am more accepting of who he is and the limitations he had.
The military honors were so impressive--particularly the haunting melody of Taps. It was the most beautiful bugeling I'd ever heard.
I'm so grateful for the comforting knowledge that this life is not the end, and that there is a plan for our salvation and eternal life.
And I'm so grateful for the family bonding that comes during times like these.
The pallbearers were grandsons: James, Shane, Chad, Justin, Sean, Derek, Ryan, and Jeff.
Blankets, mittens, hats and heavy coats were put to use. Although we had known this day was coming--had known it since last March when Dad fell and broke his hip, still this was so final. Over the summer and fall, Dad had begun to lose the ability to recognize family members. His Alzheimer's was progressing. His hip didn't heal and he was confined to his bed or a reclining wheel chair. After Thanksgiving he seemed to lose his will to live. Even his beloved tapioca pudding became hated. He slept more. He awoke less. Until he wouldn't wake up even to eat or drink. And then he didn't wake up again.
The funeral was beautiful; healing; peaceful; comforting. We laughed and cried as memories of Dad were shared. He had his flaws (like not being able to complete a sentence without some kind of expletive), but it was good to focus on the good he accomplished by his life. Like serving during World War II.
Like being a loving brother and son.
Raising two families.
Instilling a love of fishing, hunting, & camping in his children.
Living a decent life.
Oddly, I feel closer to my dad now that he has moved to the next life. He had never been out to Iowa to see where we lived, but now he can see it. I also am more accepting of who he is and the limitations he had.
The military honors were so impressive--particularly the haunting melody of Taps. It was the most beautiful bugeling I'd ever heard.
I'm so grateful for the comforting knowledge that this life is not the end, and that there is a plan for our salvation and eternal life. 
And I'm so grateful for the family bonding that comes during times like these.The pallbearers were grandsons: James, Shane, Chad, Justin, Sean, Derek, Ryan, and Jeff.
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