We picked a fairly ecumenical Lutheran pastor to conduct Dad's funeral. He's done hospice work for 30+ years; he wasn't going to beat the drum too heavily about heaven or hell. We told him all about Dad, about Dad and Mom, and about Dad and Margaret. He was pretty tickled about all our stories.
He let us deliver the eulogies. Anne, Malcolm, James and I went up. I think we made pretty clear that Dad was flat adored. None of us got through our presentations without crying, but all of us got through. Margaret wanted to say goodbye out at the actual cemetery. She was very cold, but she got though hers, too with tears but with flying colors.
The only fly in the ointment was when it was time to head to the cemetery and there were no police cars to escort us. We had to wait 15 minutes or more, but when they finally got there, they did a great job. Oh, and we almost dropped the coffin. But anybody could have done that! (And we didn't.)
It was a great experience and a wonderful funeral and no one left with any doubt that Dad made a tremendous impact nor could anyone have missed how loved he was. You wish there had been thousands there, but let's face it: he outlived most of the people who knew him. It was a great day regardless.
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