So Hard To Say Goodbye

The receiving Thursday night was so interesting. It was the first time that Ethan got to meet that side of my family and I was excited for him. I've spent almost four years having his large, tightly knit family flaunted in front of my face so I was more than ready to show him mine. Not show mine OFF, because I won't lie, it isn't much, but I wanted him to see that this is where I came from; this was the village that raised me as a little kid.

To say that my family is a little "back woods" is an understatement. I'm pretty sure Ethan entered into a bit of a culture shock. This is sort of how the conversation went...

Ethan: "You're related to ALL of these people?"
Me: "Well, not ALL of them. Lois' family is here, too... but we've always sort of thought of them as family."
Ethan: "When you said, "think Deliverance", I thought you were joking..."
Me: "No, no... I was being nice."

We made our way through the line, and most everyone was sitting down. I was most excited to introduce him to Dan, but before we got up there I pointed everyone out. They're all my cousins. Ethan was so funny...

Ethan: "Wait, why do you keep calling them your cousins?"
Me: "Because that's what they are?"
Ethan: "They're old enough to be your grandparents!"
Me: "Well, they're my 2nd and 3rd cousins. I don't have any first cousins."
Ethan: "Wow."

He's so used to having all these young cousins, these teenagers and little ones running around.

We got up to Dan, and I introduced them. He tried to stand up but I just told him he was fine. I hugged him and he whispered, "If he ever gives you any trouble, you just call me, ok?"... it's the little things like that that melt my heart; that make me dislike my dad even more.

We left the recieving before Junior showed up. Junior is Dan's oldest son, he's also a criminal. He hadn't seen Dan in probably 20 years. They said it was awkward and that he was drunk. Cool.

I didn't think I'd go to the funeral the next day, but I did.

I don't do well at funerals. Even if I have no idea who the person was, I always cry. In this case, I didn't know her well. I remember her, but I didn't truly know her.

The service was exactly what she would have wanted. The preacher spent 20937450923845 minutes talking about how horrible Hell was, how good Heaven is and how everyone needs to be saved. The importance of accepting Christ. The importance of knowing that the only way to the Kingdom is through Him. For me, it was a bit much for a funeral...I expected them to honor her more, to speak more of her. And then I quickly realized that this was not your typical woman. She would never have deemed herself worthy of honor or praise; she owed everything in this life to God and she would have been disappointed with a service that gave any glory to anyone other than her Lord.

I didn't think I'd go to the burial, but we did.

It was so beautiful. There were few words, but everyone sung her favorite Hymn, Amazing Grace. She would have liked that.

It's hard to say goodbye to someone you never quite said "hello" to. The preacher said something during the funeral that never left me... he talked about how she held the family together, how she did so much and never expected anything in return. He asked what the family intended to do... disappoint her? Let things fall apart? Or would everyone step up, reconnect and take pride in her legacy? How appropriate.

Here's to making her proud; to not letting her life-long service be in vain.