Planning the funeral was awful. There was so much to do in such a short period of time. I relate the stress of it to if you had to plan a full fledged wedding in 1 day. Britt McLane helped us and he was great! When we got to the cemetary, we were told we would need a plot for mom too. She rode with me so I had to keep my composure on that one. When we made it back to the house we had to pick out 18 pictures for the video to play at the visitation. For those of you who know how I take pictures you can imagine how hard that was for me. We had to write dad's bio, meet with Brother Wayne and then Heather and I had to go buy dresses for the funeral. I had some great friends come to my house to hang out with me and Tina even spent the night with me.
The visitation was Saturday. It took me twice as long to get ready that day. I had no motivation. My aunt Ann and Uncle Dana made it into town and I cried on her shoulder for a few moments. She said I told your daddy not to do this to us. Ironically, I remember being at my grandmas after my dad had been in the hospital for something and my aunt telling him those words. This makes 3 out of 4 of the sisters to have lost a husband. My cousin Kristy came to pick me up for the visitation. I knew we would see people who loved us and would want to show their love. I just could not stop crying. I wore my sunglasses the entire night. At one point, I walked outside of Carson McLane and started kicking the orange cones around. Hows that for composure.
The day of the funeral was a Sunday. It seemed weird that people were at church praising and worshipping and I felt like I was in my own personal hell. The church cooked us lunch what little of it I could eat. I wore sunglasses into my church. I couldnt look at anyone. The pain was awful. The words spoken about my dad were incredible. EVerything I already knew he was and then some. It seemed like he really had affected in some way everyone in Lowndes County. My friends who never got to meet him even told me they wished they had after hearing the words proclaimed about him.
The burial was awesome. I know that's very awful to say, but it was. Even through all the pain. I could understand that my dad was being honored in a way I always wished he wouldve been while he was alive. When we walked out of the church and his casket was being put in the hearse all the officers were lined up saluting him. They were saluting him. My dad devoted his life to make our community better. On the way to the cemetary the fire department had a flag draped over the road as we drove by. The bagpipes were playing as we arrived. The honor guard did a beautiful job. God Bless them. They had a 21 gun salute and then the casings were put in the folded flag that had so beautifully draped my dad's casket. The flag was presented to my mother. Dad's car had been blacked out except for a little srip of windshield so whoever was driving it could see. (It looked like a ghost car) He pulled up to the graveside, turned the engine off and sat in the car during the entire ceremony. I would like to squeeze that person for days. (They now have a marker with a red, white and blue ribbon and a black ribbon on dad's parking spot at the VPD.) The last and most tearful thing they did was do a final call over the radio. They called for VPD 400. Deep in my heart I wanted my dad to yell out over the radio I'm here...Its gonna be okay, but the silence said it all. The service was over and I hugged people for what seemed like hours. It was so amazing all the people that came to honor my dad and love on us.
Thank you to all who came or sent flowers or cards or food or called. I wish you could understand this side of Heaven what a blessing that was for us.
That's all I wish to write about that now. I will pick up with a week ago when I actually did start journaling.