Monday, October 24, 2011

How did he do it?

Twenty-four.

Twenty-four grandchildren.

Every one of them present at your funeral, minus two. One overseas serving as a missionary, the other hundreds of miles away serving in the navy. Both expressing how badly they wanted to be home --for you.

We came from miles around, took off work, drove through the night, bought expensive tickets, even flew in our families, made impossible things happen so we could be there.

It looked like a small army, the family section at the funeral. Most had their children beside them. And what a crowd was there! I thought the receiving line would never end. I've never seen such a turnout for a 90-year-old's funeral. It shows you didn't stop making sure people felt loved, even in your last years.

So many people. So many coming up and telling us how special you were. I heard things like: "He was such a gentleman." "He will be missed." He was so gentle and kind." "He was the same man wherever he went." I'd choke back the tears and try to leave the conversation before I needed a professional cosmetologist to get the mascara stains off of my face.

But... there a lots of gentle, kind, loving people who die every day who evoke this response out of people.

I really can't get over the fact that every grandchild possible --and their spouses were present. Is this normal? And it's not like we just felt like we needed to be there for our mothers. We could not miss it.

We couldn't.

And for the last little while I've been trying to figure out why.

Was it that we always felt so special around him?
Was it his dignity we admired?
Was it how he loved his family?
Was it how he served his church?
How he never complained --and yet, in his last few years, tried to be honest when we asked him how he was feeling?
Was it his wise counsel?

I want to know.

I want to know so that I can direct my boys in his steps.

This wasn't just a "sweet grandpa."

This was a man that was described by someone who had known him for years as:

"Nobody's perfect right? ["Right."] "But Weldon, he was perfect. Not a flaw. Not a flaw."