The morning of the funeral was another that passed by in a blur. My sister and I got ready at the hotel then headed the house. Mom was getting ready, dressed in all black she looked beautiful as always, but she still seemed vacant and out of sorts. At some point that morning mom let my brother and I read Dad's suicide note....it only proved the state of mind we assumed he was in before he took his life. My heart ached as I read the words. I wasn't satisfied. I guess I wanted more...an explanation.
Reading the note only caused more anguish for what was to come that day. My sister and I both wrote something to read at the funeral, I told my sister I would read her for her because I knew when the time came it would be very overwhelming for her.
We drove to the church in silence...I was nervous. I didn't know how to act or who would be there. I was most afraid to see his body again.
Some ministers came out and ushered us in through the side door. I followed my mom as we walked to the front row of the church. I kept my head down as we made our way across the alter area. When I looked up I almost let out an overwhelming gasp! The church was even more packed that it had been the night before. I saw familiar faces and faces i'd never seen before. It was comforting in a way, to see all the people mourning with my family.
The service started almost immediately after we arrived. Many people spoke, Bishop Randy Keys, Pastor Stacie Wiley, just to name a few. It came time for us to address the crowd. First my brother spoke, then it was my turn, my sister walked to the pulpit with me which made me feel more at ease. I imagined I might cry but I did not. I pretended I was reading a speech at school. I even managed to make eye contact with the congregation.
Below are the letters, starting with mine....
My father, my pastor. there are no words to even begin to describe what an incredibly brilliant man my daddy was. He had such an amazing outlook on the things of God. I remember that he would research and study until the wee hours of the morning for one sermon. I wish so badly that I could hear him preach just one more message. He was so funny and quick witted...I loved going on roadtrips with him because he would tell us the funniest stories about him and his brothers and how he was the highschool hearthrob and how he managed to finagle my mom into marrying him and becoming the wife of a preacher. His humor has carried me through many rough mornings when we would sit on the couch and drink Coffee...he was so wise. No matter the advise, or what it was for, it was always exactly what needed to be done...when i would follow dads advice my situation would take a turn for the better...and if i didn't.....well let's just say i should have always listened to daddy.
On August the 6th, of 2009, God took a facsinating man from us all. He was my pastor, my daddy, and my friend. there will never be another like him. I promise to tell share his story of the life he didicated completely to the Lord. His works have spread across this nation and live in many hearts today. i morne for the loss of a man who cannot be duplicated but will be forever missed. I pray that he is at peace and I am asking God for the strength to take another breath so that I may live my life in a way that would have made my father proud. all i ask is that God may grant me a husband and sons who are in likeness to my daddy, and that I might one day touch as many lives as he has.
I love you dad, Rest In Peace.
People say I was his budy. and I was. we shared interest in things that werent very important to most people. He would always talk to me about culture ,history and every smart little fact you could think of. I thought he was just a genius,and he was. he knew everything about everything . It seemed like he knew all the answers. Homework answers,bible answers,and even life answers. He would always ask me about my future and what I wanted to do.of course I answered different every time but he always showed as much enthusiasm as he did with my last career path. I will always remember the last trip my dad and I went on. We went to flagstaff and rode the ski lift. It was my first time and I was SCARED, but some how I couldn't help but feel safe with my dad hangin around. On our way up the mountain on the ski lift we talked about everything imaginable. and on the way down we took pictures with his camera. the scenery was beautiful and I can remember him reminding me that all the mountains and trees were all a creation of god. He asked me his usual question about my career choice. my answer surprised him. i told him all about my interest in going to college. and his face lit up like a christmas tree.the rest of the way down we talked about college possibilities. I can remember him being so proud of me and listening to me ramble on about school and what we learned but he always seemed enthralled with it all. In the end I think he was. to me my dad was a true man of god and a man who knew everything. He was kind hearted and a wonderful pastor,father,and huband. he will be missed but remembered.
The service was very long, lasting several hours. At the end as people started to line up to pay their respects, I felt overwhelmingly anxious. I knew that soon they would be closing the casket and that would be the last time I would see his face.
The last few guests trickled out of the sanctuary and into the lobby. The ushers closed and locked the doors and all that remained was immediate family. I will never forget the sight of my sister bent over with her head in my dads chest as she weeped. I myself still could not bring myself to do more than lightly rest my hand on his arm. To this day I regret that. I wish I had the strength to do as my sister did and weep on my fathers chest.
They informed us it was time to close the casket...my mom asked for one last minute alone with him. I watched as kissed him and spoke softly. She backed away from him and took my hand. They began to close the casket in what seemed like movie time slow motion. I stopped breathing. As the casked shut, my mother nearly collapsed and let out an all too familiar scream. The realization of never seeing my fathers face again was like having my heart ripped from my chest.
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