Re post from my Xanga site Sunday 7 Oct 2007
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My Dad's funeral day was Wednesday, October 11, 1989. Before we were going to the church, family member gathered in the yard where we live now. The street was filled with cars.
There were a lot of people in the yard. The day was pleasant. It was a warm sunshiny Fall day. The trees had many beautiful colors displayed for all to see.
An unique thing happened as we were about to pray. A huge gushing wind came. It brought some dust into the street. It was like a world wind. We had to wait for the wind to stop. I thought that the wind was very unusual.
After we prayed, we gathered up in line car behind car, hiding to the church. We made our way there. As we got out of our cars, family members gathered together and stood outside in a line waiting to go in the church.
As we entered the church, the song "O When The Saints, Go Marching In" was playing. The small church was packed. All but 4 brothers did not attend the funeral.
The casket was open the entire funeral. The homecoming celebration lasted about an hour. The time came to view the body for the last time. I waited so I could be one of the last ones there before the casket was closed.
As I waited, a cousin came behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder. When she place her hand on my shoulder, I began to weep and cry. I didn't know what hit me.
It took a while for me to compose myself. I did not know what came over me. I was just sitting there calmly, waiting for the time for me to go to view my Dad's body. Then when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I started to cry. I don't like to cry in public.
I did make it up to the casket to view my Dad's body for the last time. I had a smile in my heart as I touched my father's hands that were folded. I believe that he is in Heaven. After that I waved and turned around. I walked out the church doors.
As our cousins brought the coffin out of the church, I began to take pictures of the funeral. I took some photo of my father's body at the funeral home during the wake / visitation. One thing I recall about the wake. We were talking as though it was not a visitation. There was a sound of joy in the house.
Back to the funeral: It felt like a long ride to the cemetery. As a tradition when a loved one passes, we drive by the loved ones house. We went by our family house on the way to the cemetery. When we got to the cemetery, I continued to take some more pictures. The trees looked so beautiful. The weather was like summertime.
You may be thinking: Why did I take photos?
There were people who did not make it to the funeral. Also future generations who never got the honor to met my father might want to see the photos. Some my wonder about who was my father?
I have some photos coming up in the far near future. 2028 or so Here's one...
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