The Visitation and Viewing

The next several days in Canyon, Texas were a blur.

Who knew what day was what? Who really cared?

All we knew was the visitation for Dad would be on Sunday evening, and that the funeral would be Monday afternoon.

To be honest, I know we visited Dad at the funeral home many times. The staff there had done a tremendous job. Dad looked so peaceful, lying there in his Texas A&M ball cap, his reading glasses, and his red button-up shirt. He looked like he was simply taking a well-deserved nap…

~

Sunday evening arrived. Family and friends came from all over the state, far and near to hug my Mother, Heather, and I, pay their respects, share a few tears, and give their love. It was painful and beautiful at the same time. Dad touched so many lives. I am forever grateful to all who either came or who understandably sent their love and remained socially distant because of COVID. Their presence was with us in spirit during our time of sorrow, for sure.

Monday afternoon, we paid Dad’s physical body one last visit at the funeral home before proceeding to the graveside service. Dad had always made it clear to Mom and me that he wanted a simple graveside service when he passed from this life. We were following his wishes as best as we could.

As we stood over his open casket for the last time, the staff informed us that it was time to place the casket in the hearse and proceed to the cemetery. Mom had her moment with Dad, and so did Heather, and I. As we turned to leave, Mom started to walk briskly out of the viewing area. She did not want to see the casket close. I turned to Heather and pleaded, “She can go ahead. I need to see this!”

Just for reference: My youth minister, Paul O’Rear, has a book he published called Living with A Broken Heart: Rediscovering Life After Loss. In one of the chapters I vaguely remember Paul writing about his daughter Ashley as she was wheeled out of their house on a gurney for the last time. Ashley won her battle with cancer at 14 years old. She is still missed by so many to this day.

To the best of my understanding, there were family members and friends who were well intentioned and attempted to shield Paul from seeing her leave the house. In response, Paul elbowed his way through and exclaimed, “No! I need to see her leave! I need to see this!”

…I cannot say that Paul and I shared the same grief. This was my father. Ashley was his baby girl. However, for a moment I felt like I understood why he needed to see it.

I needed tell my Daddy “Good night.”

The reassurance is that we will see each other again when I join him in the Heavenly Realm.

~

Thank you, family, and friends. Until next time, readers: this is “The Truman Blog”. I love you, Dad. Always and forever.

 

Your loving son,

~ Brian