I hate funerals but I have to say that people are...better?...afterwards. My small hometown turned out and every person who expressed his sorrow and shared a memory blessed us and soothed an unbearable ache.
Anthony sobbed with us, couldn't even talk. Gentle hands reached out from everywhere and I knew them, even when I couldn't see the attached faces through my veil of tears. Comforting, feeding, moving us along when we couldn't take one more step. Elena's single red rose, Central High Class of 82's maroon and gold wreath. Four arrangements from his company, three from our church. One from a new neighbor who wasn't even sure how to spell his name. People everywhere...from church, from a newspaper where I haven't worked in eight years, from our homeschool group, from the fellowship ministry. Cashiers from the convenience stores whose computers were serviced by Ben. We would never have missed them if they hadn't been there, but there they were anyway.
Surprisingly, laughter. Cracking a joke to beat back the sorrow. "I know I can die now. If Ben can do it, how hard can it be?"
Most of all, the fear is gone. The worst has happened, and God kept his word and took care of us. May he continue to protect and refine our faith so that when we join Ben, he can say to us, "Are you here already? Dude, you should see YOUR mansion!"
