The one at the forefront of my mind is that of the ten grandsons acting as the pallbearers. Such tall strong young men lifting the flag-laden casket out of the hearse, bearing my grandpa up the stairs to the church, then back down to be taken to his final resting place. All dressed in black, their faces are set in stern lines taking in the seriousness of their task. As they maneuver in silence, working together, ever gentle, ever strong, I can only think that my Grandpa's soul is bursting with pride over these fine young men.
1 comment:
Just to let you know, there are some of us that are crazy. I take pictures if I can at wakes.
When I was 18 my 37 year old brother died of a brain tumor and my dad had another brother take a picture of him in the casket. I was horrified. We never took pictures of the people present and now I wish I had. So many men and women have died since.
What brought my writing to you to mind, when my Dad died I took pictures of my brothers and sister as pall bearers when my mom died I took pictures and recently looked back and realized three of my four sons were pall bearers and they wore their hearts on their faces for all to see. I cherish these pictures for the strength & love so evident. It gives me comfort and hope.
I'm going to my cousin's internment next week. He'll be buried in Arlington Cemetery, I asked my cousin's wife if I could take pictures and she thinks she'd like a professional photographer. I missed taking pictures at this same counsin's funeral two months ago and I know many of the people present then won't be now.
Sometimes the emotions are so high and the number of people you speak to so many, it's hard to trully have closure. My pictures of those serious, crying, laughing faces give hope to life on earth. For I know without a doubt the person who has died has just begun to live in the Father's love.
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