It was an unpleasant morning in the Valley, one which underscored the importance of my being down there as much as is practical given my life here in Halifax.
But, I wouldn't have missed the memorial service at the funeral home this afternoon. No way.
We were invited by the funeral home as the family of people who had died this year. I am speculating that only people who loved ones funerals were at that funeral home were invited, but I'd be delighted to be wrong. I have a lot of time and respect for the White family, and it was nice of them to invite us to an event that cost them a tidy sum.
The highlight for me was the reading of the names of the people who had passed over the past 12 months. I kept waiting to hear my father's name. I heard the names of folks who had died over the last year whom I knew, but hadn't known they had died. Afterward, they kindly printed their obits for me, and I will read them and learn more about the people who had left my life before they left their own.
Anyway, they finally read my father's name, and I glanced over at my sister and her daughter. We can never forget our father. He was our rock. We miss him like crazy. Life will never be the same without him.
I am not a religious person. That is either a fault of mine, or you like me even more for it. But, a lump came to my throat when I read the enclosed poem, "My first Christmas in Heaven". Here. Go ahead and read it.
The service ended. They served food. I left. Got some pictures of some of Dad's power tools we're trying to sell off. Tried to teach my mother how to use a dvd player without much success. Drove back to Halifax and into the waiting arms of my betrothed. Or something like that.
It's been a really long day, with high high's and low low's. If you'll excuse me, I'll call it a night now.
It's a night.
Trust me. I checked.
Bevboy
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