Funerals, flowers, prayers, and friends

Friends,

Today was the funeral home visitation for my father (2-4 and 7-9 pm).  This was exhausting, but so good in so many ways.  It was an amazing show from my father’s life – family, church members, friends, colleages, neighbours, you name it, they were there.  People streamed through the whole time.  More than 500 I am certain, though I don’t have an official count.

What amazed me was that everyone who came to me, my sister, and my brother, encountered the same things:  “oh, you’re David [Julie, Andy], your dad told me about [fill in the subject], how is that going?”  Dad was big on community, and he lived a life to show it.

I have been somewhat overwhelmed by people offering us support and prayer.  Just on a personal note, when we arrived at the funeral home today I was overwhelmed to see that there was a bouquet from my church, from my parents in law, and from my small group at church.  So many of my cousins came and hugged me and Wendy; asked about Jan, and were so supportive.  My good friend Leslie drove from Toronto to offer her condolences.

I watched too as literally dozens of people who work with, go to church with, or are in some way connected with, my siblings came through the line – they drove from Oshawa and Peterborough to be here (each more than an hour away).  My siblings have amazing communities as well.

And then it was all driven home in a very clear and concrete way.  About every single person my mother worked with at the bank of Nova Scotia came through, even though mom’s retired and doesn’t see all those people very often.  And every person who worked with dad at Leon’s furniture came through – sales people, warehouse people, owners, you name it.  This was incredibly significant to me.  I realised that my own desire for significant community grows from my father’s teaching.  He showed me what that meant every day of his life, and I just assumed that kind of community was what everyone had and wanted.

It appears my father still has things to teach me.

Have a look at the James Dean version of dad, from 1955: