He isn’t here….

Customs are interesting to me.  Today, (Sunday) I was privileged to get to attend my Uncle Hugh’s funeral.  In Texas, we receive friends the first night, then do service and burial on the next day.  In Tennessee, they do the receiving of friends and the service the same day, then the graveside service the next day. 

I wasn’t going to get to go to the funeral at first.  Daryl and I had tickets reserved, but my blood pressure was doing some loopy things, so he asked me to stay home.  By Sunday morning, it seemed to settle down, and he agreed that it would be a good idea for me to be there. (Me, at 6:30 am this morning…”Honey, I’m feeling better.  Do you think I could go on to Tennessee?  There’s a flight that leaves at 10:30…I bet I could get a bereavement fare and go on to Tennessee?)(Daryl, shaking his head as he says “Sure.” Probably thinking he will NEVER know what I’ll come up with next, and that his life will never be boring!) It will be a 24 hour turnaround, more or less,  but is well worth it.  (Thanks for letting me use the vouchers I salvaged, Mom.)

I wanted to be here for my Mom…she’s lost 3 siblings in 13 months.  That leaves her the last of the siblings.  I wanted to be here for Imazo…she and Hugh were always so good to us girls.  I wanted to be here for my cousins….who are more like brothers after the summers we used to spend together at Grandma’s. I wanted to be there for me, because I love my family, and need them. I miss Daryl being here with me, but am grateful he sent me on, even though he couldn’t drop obligations at the last minute like I did. 

My Uncle Hugh was a wonderful man.  He was kind, loving, and a Godly man.  The lines of people who came to console the family began at 4 pm, and the funeral wasn’t able to start until 6:15pm instead of 6 because folks were still in line to talk to the family, especially to Imazo, my aunt.  Hugh was loved deeply by all who knew him.  He had the gift of caring, of making you feel important, and you loved him for it.  Daryl told me that at our wedding, Hugh took him aside and said, “Now, you take good care of Carol.  She’s a special girl.”

An interesting phenomenon occurred in the course of that 2 hours of guests arriving.  When I first went to “see” my Uncle’s body, it was SO obvious, as it always is, that he wasn’t there.  It was still a bit uncomfortable to “look” at him. The way these lines work, the family stands near the casket, lined up, with the One who is nearest and dearest to the deceased at the head of the casket.  The rest of us spread out.  Since my mom was his sister, she was to Imazo’s right, past the casket.  As we stood there, we became comfortable with death.  It ceased to be Hugh, it ceased to be eerie.  It just became fact.  It was clear and undeniable.  I wish I had the eloquence to communicate the shift of emotion. 

When I was a little girl, my Grandpa Gray passed away.  My Aunt Imazo coerced me into “viewing” his body.  I remember her telling me that it’s something I just needed to do, so I could understand it better.  She was right.  I needed to, and it was a clear lesson that death separates the spirit from the body. 

Having that time to be near the casket, that time being comforted for our loss, gives the emotions time to become accustomed to reality.    

Tomorrow, when we have to bury Hugh’s remains, we will have been through today, and that separation of events, I think, will have better prepared us for tomorrow.  It certainly does not ease the pain of loss, it just prepares the heart to view life and death more like God does. Hugh isn’t there.  He’s Home, with his Lord, whom he loved even more than this life.  Love you, Hugh.