Honor Thy (Grand) Father

 How can we honor a life as long as my Papa's? How can we give him credit for all he accomplished and endured and created and fixed? When Papa died one week ago after a particularly rough year, I began gathering my thoughts about his example and legacy.   

My Grandpa Lawrence's funeral was held at Our Lady of Fatima Church in Modesto, California. I lived just a few blocks from the church for a few years as a child. 

My mom attended this church as a young girl, receiving her catechism lessons here. This church gained extra meaning for me when I served as a missionary in Portugual very close to Fatima, after which the church is named.

 As Mormons we believe it's part of our baptismal covenant to "mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort." We promise to "bear one another's burdens". I'm not sure why this initial experience of watching the pall-bearers immediately reminded me of that promise. But this act of "carrying" and "lifting" in such a cooperative manner gave me such peaceful satisfaction. 

 The sanctuary in this church is uniquely decorated. White and full of light" with lots of biblical type, it was a perfect spot for Father Khoi to preach the gospel. 

Though I longed for him to speak added words of light and knowledge available in the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, I felt the peace of the Spirit as he talked about the hope we feel in knowing that Christ overcame death and was resurrected.

 After the funeral Papa's nephews and grandsons carried the casket to the hearse. This view reminded me again of our duty to mourn with those who are experiencing loss. These three, in the foreground, Grandpa's three children were our focus. We were here to help them honor their father, it occurred to me.  It was a pleasure to stand behind them and beside them. They have lived their entire lives knowing Grandpa Lawrence through the best and hardest times with him. Losing him in this life will be hardest for these three. 

 

The graveside service was also a sweet tribute to Papa. Father Khoi added a few words. An honor guard from the American Legion conducted a dignified flag ceremony. His few great grandkids in attendance were quiet and distracted by being in such a large park. 

As a sidenote, I rode to the funeral services in my Papa's farm truck. For as long as I knew him Papa drove a pick-up truck. It seemed like it was a good idea, and while I was inside of it I enjoyed the mixed smells of grease and hay and manure/mud. 

Upon exiting I noticed other unique scratches and dents. And I noticed the dirt that I had picked up inside--I was wearing it all over my black dress. Somehow it wasn't too devastating, and I brushed off what I could and carried on with the day with that little reminder of Papa.