Jewells of Thought

Friday I found myself at a funeral. It wasn’t for a family member thank goodness. For anyone who knows what my family has been through the past few months. More than one cousin, first and beyond the first cousin label.

No this was even closer as far as proximity to my home. My family has deep relations with our neighbors going up to Bethel Church at the highway. We consider them all as neighbors. Especially the Bedwell brothers who are related, distant cousins. We are bonded with them for more than that though. They were the boys my Grandpa Freddy and Grandma Rosie saved from a fire.

Another reason is one of the brothers who lives in my Grandparent’s home. It is soon to be demolished as he starts a new chapter. This is the end of an era. Yet as we talked to these brothers and other neighbors this past week there was one neighbor I didn’t get to know. And that was truly a shame.

As I sat in that chair in a Linton funeral parlor I knew it could be a big gathering. It was. Underlying the surface I had been getting over a reaction to an allergen and believed it was over only to deal with a fresh reaction on the way over. I was for sure my face was beet-red. Still it was worth being there to see the outpouring of love for the reason we were all there.

Goodness I don’t remember when he moved in. The man married our neighbor. Unfortunately we always seem to be busy coming and going. One thing I do know about this man though he was a worker. He loved keeping busy himself and enjoyed making their house look just so-so. I think my parents have had the most interaction with the couple with the years, although I have had more conversations with her for certain.

When the seats were filled and the service began a couple of things became clear. This man was loved and reversed by his family and his church family and friends. Tons of photos of smiling faces were everywhere a sure sign that this family had been loved as well as loving themselves. Secondly, it meant he was beloved as a preacher, I remember knowing that but I think I forgot about it at times because I didn’t know about him more. A dear friend of ours from our farming days ended up sitting next to us which also stated how well others thoughts of this man. It was so humbling for me to see the people who knew my neighbor better than I did.

The most difficult part of the whole service was listening to one of his 19 great-grandchildren. She took me to a time 21 years ago when it was my grandfather. It doesn’t take much to tap into my emotional spring of tears. Like her I had an amazing Grandpa, but I was sick and couldn’t speak like she did at his funeral. It took me another week at church a week after his death to sing his favorite song. I was trying not to cry, but I simply couldn’t keep it in. I kept thinking people are going to think this is weird that I don’t know this man but I’m crying because of the well of emotion that can so easily be opened when someone else speaks about a Grandpa.

Afterwards when we walked up one last time the tears were still evident. The lady, one of the funeral attendants took one look at me and offered me another Kleenex. Fortunately I had some due to a Bridal Shower at Mom’s church. One of the few reasons to go with Mom I get things to put in my purse that I may need sometime. Of course I didn’t even think about makeup that day which may have helped or perhaps made it worse. Still not sure at least I didn’t have mascara all over my face. Just a red face stained with tears.

Do you ever find yourself in this situation? Not getting to know someone simply because of being busy or having a situation that colors your mind on a person or couple?

The Love that filled that funeral parlor reminded me so much of Grandpa’s funeral at Fellowship all those years ago. I suppose it still reminds me of a conversation I heard from two of my college professors at Oakland City University. Dr. Pratt and the Dean of Education were talking about their parents who died and Dr. Pratt said he still mourned his father and probably always would. I miss hearing the conversations I used to hear while working.

Dr. Pratt was my Professor in the class titled “New Testament.” He also helped me charge up my battery after a fresh snow so that I could get home for the weekend. This was during my first semester. I ended up getting home for another funeral that day at Fellowship. Sometimes it’s odd how my memory works and how I remember certain things in such a way. Death is a part of life I just wish I had spent more time getting to know my neighbor the Preacher.

Mom and I somehow took point on getting some flowers for the funeral. After talking to another neighbor it was thought we had better resources. The lady who did our flowers for Grandma Rosie’s Celebration of Life came through for us again. Melissa is a sweetheart and I wish I had gotten a photo of the beautiful arrangement. Ironically the next would have been Grandma’s 90th birthday. Something else also on my mind for the past week. God gave me exceptional grandparents on both sides of my family.