Full Honor

Our Uncle Ken is gone. The funeral, yesterday, was beautiful. I had never attended a funeral where "Full Military Honors" were presented.
42 years ago as a girl scout we sang the words to "Taps" at the end of each meeting. One of my favorite ways to start each day is with the thought that "This is the day that God has made. Let us rejoice and be glad". The words to Taps has always seemed to "bookend" with this as a way to recognize that each day is a gift.Taps has always stirred my heart, but never as much as it did at this moment.
After the mass, seven young U.S. Airforce men and women stood at attention, the flag was folded, there was a gun salute, taps was played on a single bugle, the flag was presented to Aunt Libby, then they presented her with the spent shells. It was a lovely, well deserved honor.
I stood across the casket from my husband, and son. As the bugler played Taps I looked across the casket and could see my emotions reflected in their tear streaked faces. My prayer was one of gratitude for Uncle Ken having been, having been a part of our lives, and for his having been a role model for the other men in my life.  I pray that he is now with Our Father. I trust that he is now with Our Father.

After any funeral, the gathering that follows is something I kind of dread, but need.  Uncle Ken and Aunt Libby have lived full, faith filled, gratious lives. The gathering was exceptionally full of the generous loving hearts they have surrounded themselves with over their lives. People who have never met greeted each other with hugs, and generosity of love and spirit. Family drew even closer, it is a real "circle of family". While filled with grief, this family still rejoiced in the fact they are family. Friends rejoiced in having known Ken and in knowing Libby. Their friends rejoiced in meeting or re-meeting each other. Connections were made and made closer.
Uncle Ken was a funny man. He was smart and witty. The stories told and repeated brought laughter. As we looked around the room we could see his eyes, or his nose, or his jaw, or brow line in every Figeroid face. Uncle Ken's friends came up to my husband to tell him how much he looks like his uncle.  His daughter, Lisa,  spoke of having one of those moments, of glancing over at David in his car, and thinking for just that instant that it was her father. ...and it is ...just a bit of her father. Uncle Ken is one of the men that helped sculpt who my husband is. ...and who my son is. I can't tell her this right now, but I will, later.
I watch Uncle Ken's children, the cousins. I know the grief. I know that feeling of being glad to be with friends and family, but really just getting through the day. I remember that surreal blur of emotion that you can only let out a little at a time, because if you ever let it all out at once you would be lost in it forever. Margaret, the oldest daughter, grief etched in her face, holding it together, seeming to be deep in thoughts of what the day means in her life, in her mom's life. A hug seemed so insufficient. I spoke with the lovely vocalist who sang, and the harpist who played. They are friends of Cousin Ken. Their presence a gift to him and his father. Later in the day Cousin Ken read parts of the play that he has written. His talent shining out, his sense of humor in full view. I thought to myself, he is funny and witty like his dad. I didn't tell him that then, I will, later.
The gathering is hard to end. We didn't want to leave Aunt Libby. We wanted somehow to try to fill that un-fillable hole. She sent food home with us. Taking care of us. They had been married over 50 years. I try not to feel that grief, just the idea of it is more than I can bear. She is one of my favorite people in the entire world. I don't think she knows that. I didn't tell her then, I will, later.
At the end of the day, I came home with my husband. His sister and my nieces live out of town, they came back to the house with us. We talked for a while and I fell asleep on the couch. Today I got up and went to work. My sister-in-law and nieces flew home. My husband worked on the political campaign that occupies his days right now. Life goes on. But, it will never be the same. It cannot be. It should not be. I didn't know when I typed it, but I think that is what the title to this blog means. The important people in our lives, the ones whose lives really mean something to us, to others, deserve that. They deserve our recognition that their presence changed our lives in an irrevocable way and that the loss of that presence changes it as well. Our grief is an honor, the fact they were a part of our lives, a gift, Both of these things a reason for gratitude. We owe it to them to take what lessons they have taught us and to "step it up". Allow it to become closer to the surface of who we are. To take as much of their goodness as we can and carry it with us.  Full Honor. ...and always gratitude.