The hymn, Be Still My Soul, is playing right now and it reminded me of a sad thought I had last night. Dad sang that song and I played on the keyboard at his dad's funeral, so it makes me think of that as well as the funeral home.
Almost every funeral I have been to in my whole life hasn't really "mattered" or wasn't about me. The saddest ones for me were my grandpa, grandma and Papa Gene. But I was always a little detached from each one (except in the case of my grandma I guess because we were so close). I wasn't the focus. I wasn't the one who lived with them or anything.
I always felt lucky or thankful that it wasn't me who was being directly affected by the loss, that I was just there to support someone else. Sometimes I even felt guilty about that fact. Guilty but thankful.
But my time came, my God. Did it ever. Wow. My heart was in that casket with you. My heart.
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