a new experience

On Tuesday, the girls and I attended a funeral for my cousins' grandpa. I'm not related to him since it's the "other" side of their family.  But he's been at so many family parties and events that I know him.  Even at 97, he always remembers me and my family, asking about our home and activities.  The funeral was a Catholic mass.  And just in case someone besides my three faithful readers has stumbled across this rambling blog, I feel that it would be helpful to clarify that I'm not Catholic, I'm LDS.  As is all of Grandpa's family.  But since he was devoted Catholic throughout his life, the funeral was a Catholic mass, held in his parish.

Just to set the stage, I think I should also offer a reminder that my children are wonderful and sweet.  And not particularly well behaved.  Or quiet.  I've only attended a Catholic funeral once, for a friend and classmate in high school.  The chapel was silent, there were no children, it was very formal, everyone was dressed in black and I remember the near-suffocating despair at the tragedy.  Fortunately, Grandpa's passing was rather expected and this was a more intimate gathering with only the closest friends and family.  So I took these three adorable girls into a Catholic chapel and was instantly grateful my parents were there to help.  We said hello to cousins and talked for a few minutes in the foyer.  Once we entered the chapel, they were full of questions.  They asked about the stained glass windows, made observations such as "Their singing book is different from ours!" and played with the little bench in our pew meant for kneeling.  The service began and I tried to quiet them with books and suckers.  Not the most reverent, but they stopped talking. The row behind us was grandpa's friends, all who regularly attended that parish and were rather surprised but understanding (and hopefully even a little amused).  The quote of the day was when Butterfly asked if we were playing Simon Says (standing and sitting and repeating so often).  She was also a little put out when I didn't let her go up to get the "snack".

Overall, it was a beautiful service but I was still saddened by the finality of it.  The priest words gave very little comfort and I missed hearing the eulogy and stories about his life.

The funeral was followed by a gathering at the cemetery where military honors were given (as Grandpa served at Normandy during WWII) and the services concluded.  We lingered awhile and after the priest had left, my uncle dedicated the grave according to our LDS beliefs.  After, he shared that it was actually at Grandpa's request, suggesting that Grandpa "played both sides" and wanted to be sure his bases were covered.

We attended the luncheon at the parish and chatted with cousins (this was the best part, when cousins got telling stories about him) before turning the girls loose at the park and finally heading home.