Okay, I’ve never had funeral potatoes, but I might want to look up the recipe.
I swore I wouldn’t attend any more funerals after my Mom died because, frankly, it was ugly. But then, it was not Dad’s children that were being mean-spirited. It was Mom’s. I just now figured that out.
My mother and father had a marriage made in hell, and I believe his second marriage made him into the kind of man that gave his second set of children the father I never had.
I have to say that this particular funeral service was very healing for all concerned, and certainly provided healing for me.
I want to say a word about his second wife, mildly amusing OCD stepmother. She loved him without reservation, and wanted to be certain that his send-off was her last gift to him. She pulled it off like a champion. There was no drama, no sniping at others, and everyone just loved on everyone else.
She did her best to make everyone feel welcomed, and wanted to send him off with a nice family gathering. She put aside any differences she might have with others, and she did it because she loved him so much.
The funeral directors made a point of remarking what a nice family they dealt with. I’m pretty sure they have seen some train wrecks, but there were none in evidence that day.
Grammie showed up and provided some welcome comic relief. I can honestly say it was an awesome service. Look here for a creepily appropriate picture of Grammie.
I resolved I would say goodbye to my father in the same spirit which I met him. With the unrestrained love of an infant.
That is precisely what I did. I am so thankful.
I’m totally okay with this. And? That is my miracle.
Thank you all for your good energy and wishes. Know that I felt it, and greatly appreciated it.
You are in my heart.