Father
was finishing his message when Pat turned her attention away from her
husband's casket. The assembled group rose to respond to the priest's
prayers. For Sam's soul, for his widow, his children, his grandchild,
the congregation prayed. The funeral continued and during communion the
soloist sang Amazing Grace, Sam's favorite hymn. Pat steeled herself against
the emotion of the music by digging her heels into the floor. She held
a hand of each of her children and fought for strength.
When
the final blessing was given, the pallbearers, their friends, stood and
formed two rows of three behind the casket. As the procession began its
final march out of the church, the organ intoned the music Pat had selected
as the recessional. She knew it well and tried to sing along, but her
voice cracked and the words stuck in her throat. "And He will
raise you up, on eagle's wings, bear you on the breath of dawn, make you
to shine like the sun, and hold you in the palm of His hand."
She had chosen this song because it reminded her of the lake, the sunrises
and sunsets she and Sam had enjoyed and the presence of God they felt
so strongly there.
"Dad
would have liked this," Mac whispered to his mother as they made their
way toward the back of the church.
"He
had a lot of friends," she whispered back. "Look at this crowd. Even the
atrium is full."
As
the pallbearers lifted the casket into the hearse Pat joined Anne, her
husband, Gregg, little Allison and Mac and his fiancée, Lisa in a waiting
car for the journey to the cemetery.
"I
knew dad was a popular guy, but this is overwhelming," Anne said, looking
back at the long string of cars pulling out of the church parking lot.
"I
don't expect everyone to come to the cemetery," Pat said. "I really dislike
that part. I always leave right after the church service to avoid it."
Anne
drew in a shaky breath and reached over and patted her mother's hand.
"Just hang in there a little longer, Mom. It'll be over soon."
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