230418 Pallbearer

I was a pallbearer once .

It happened in the spring of 1974, a day I will never forget. My grandfather had passed away. This was a man whom I admired. I sat by his side for years when I was a boy. He taught me about everything I needed to know to grow into a man. He taught me a love for reading, how to live and how to have faith in God.

There was a wake held for 3 long days and nights of tears for me. I was at the funeral home one afternoon when a Catholic priest (the one who handled grandpa’s service) somehow knew who I was and he told me that grandpa was in heaven that day because he had the faith of a child, something I had lost for decades until recently, since I lost Joyce too.

The day of grandpa’s funeral came and I remember it well. There were 6 pallbearers, me, my dad, my uncle Tom, my brother Tom, my uncle Kenny and Tim Mahoney (a young man who used to go fishing with grandpa and me). We lifted the casket from the gurney into the hearse and then followed it to the grave site. We were in my brother Tom’s car following the hearse when I noticed all 6 of us were in tears. I had never seen any one of those men cry over anything before or after. That is something I will never forget. I remember carrying the casket from the hearse to the grave. I was shaking with my tears and afraid I might lose my grip on the rails of the casket. That was the saddest day of my life until Joyce passed away.

I love my family members, even those who choose not to recognize my existence. I am the oldest surviving member of our family and somehow it gives me comfort to know that I’ll never have to grieve over another loss, because I’m next in line to pass away. I pray for the dead every day; it’s what I do and I hope that when I die those left will pray for me. God knows I need those prayers.