Tidbits

It's hard to believe it's been 2 weeks since Dad passed away. Everything happened SO fast. Time has been relentless since. I wanted to write while everything was happening, but everything seemed to be spinning and I couldn't concentrate. I've been wanting to write about the various moments that make up what memories I have of the last two weeks before I forget them forever. I couldn't really wait any longer. So, good, bad or ugly...here they are...

I wrote previously about taking Dad to the hospital. Those few minutes were some of the most terrifying of my entire life. Looking back, I'm really grateful that I could be there with him in those closing minutes of his life. I sort of feel like Forest Gump when he tells about the passing of his friend, Bubba Blue...had I known that would be our last car ride together, I would have come up with something better to say or just something comforting to say while we were on our way to the hospital. But, I didn't. I did get to tell him it was no trouble to take him where he needed to go as we were getting in the car. I guess as far as that is concerned, I'll have to be content that I was with him at the end.

Oddly enough, when we arrived at the Conroe Regional Hospital ER, I saw somebody at the entrance I'd not seen in months. If you attend the Vineyard Church of Conroe, you'll remember the name "Becca-Boo." For those who didn't have the privilege, Becca-Boo attended our church for a while. She was baptized during one of our services, which was really neat. I wasn't there that Sunday, but I would have given anything to have seen her go under the water. She is better known for saying some of the most awkward or inappropriate things at the most awkward times during our church services. She once sat with me and my parents at our church's 1st Sunday Lunches. I got up to get my folks some coffee and when I got back to the table, my parents were straight-faced and slightly blushed. Becca-Boo was just being herself, just laughing and talking. They told me later that she told them a joke that neither of them would repeat. That's how she was. I've not seen the lady in don't know when. But, when I drove up to the ER with Dad two weeks ago, there she was...sitting in a wheel chair, waiting for a ride and smoking a cigarette. She heard me when I got out of the car, asking for help to get Dad inside."Y'all help this man!" I don't believe in coincidences. I don't understand why Becca-Boo was there that night. She didn't do anything signficant, that I can tell, except maybe to get a laugh out of me.

Once Dad had been pronounced dead, Mom and I were invited into the room where the doctors and technicians had been working to revive him. I haven't been around many bodies in my life and I often avoid viewings and wakes. It was awkward at first when we walked in the room, but after a while it was clear that we were going to have to wait there, with Dad - in state . Eventually, we got a call from the funeral director from the funeral home in Malakoff who would make the arrangements for Dad's funeral. He told me that a local undertaker was coming to take care of Dad's body for the night. I thought he would be there within a few minutes. Those few minutes turned into a couple of hours. Fortunately, Mom & Dad's pastor from Conroe, Lloyd Maddoux was there with us, along with our friends, Raymond & Bobby McDonald and Frank Jackson. They definitely helped us pass the time. When the undertaker finally arrived, he asked if we wanted to take a few moments with Dad's body before he took it and left. Bobby & Raymond had already left for the night. Pastor Maddoux said a prayer with us and left, too. Frank led Mom & me in a prayer and sang the song "Surely The Presence of the Lord is in This Place" with us. I'll never hear that song the same way again. For a moment, that emergency room became a chapel. The feeling I felt in that moment is something I hope I never forget.

Dad was a cowboy. He wore cowboy boots and hats as long as I can remember, but had to stop wearing boots within the last several years because he had trouble walking in them. But, everything he had was western, in one way or another. So, when we were getting things together, what would portray that part of his personality? I popped off at one point that if Dad had his say, he'd prefer to just be buried in a pine box. But, when we walked in the parlor at Tomlinson Funeral Home, there was this stained wood casket that had "cowboy" all over it. We picked it and felt better about it the more we looked at and discussed it. Then, as the icing on the cake, we decided that we wouldn't put flowers on the casket. Instead, we wanted to put his cowboy hat, propped up on his Bible. Then, we propped up the old cane that Dad liked to use on the side of the casket. It was painted by my daughter Anna with aqua on the shaft and brown on the handle. The paint would peel and flake off and wasn't a lot to look at. What's more, Dad had all kinds of canes given to him since he began having difficulty when walking. But, he would prefer THAT cane over all of them every time. The arrangement, the wood casket, the cowboy hat, Bible and the cane, were just "him."

If there was anything that Dad was adamant about, it was that he did NOT want his funeral to be held in a funeral chapel. ABSOLUTELY NOT! His funeral would be in a church. The fine people at Malakoff First Assembly of God were more than happy to fulfill our request. In fact, Pastor Tommy Hayes said "well, if you're going to have the funeral there, you might as well have the visitation there, too." It made sense really, Malakoff First Assembly was the other place where Dad spent most of his time over the past 25 years. Once he retired, in 1986, Malakoff First Assembly was the beneficiary of Dad's free time. He didn't have any hobbies necessarily. He would just go to the church. He mowed the church yard. He helped with work that needed to be done. He was one of the 12 Disciples in an Easter production once. He was also a shepherd in the living nativity during the Christmas Holidays. It was only fitting that Dad would lie in state in the only church he ever belonged to.

Dad was a church board member for a long time. When I was born in 1968, he had been on the church board AT LEAST 10 years. When a person is on a church board that long, they get to know a lot of preachers. Dad knew a LOT of preachers. His son-in-law, CE Smith is a preacher. Billy Paul Cain, our neighbor of several years, is a preacher. His grandson, Johnny, is a preacher. Tommy Hayes said tried to count the preachers that Dad served on the board. There were 7 in my lifetime alone. So, it was only fitting to have 4 of his most current pastors represented at the service.

Lloyd Maddoux, Mom & Dad's pastor from Conroe was present; Ken Jones, who was in Malakoff for 12 or so years, was present; Tommy was present and Gaylord Brown, who is currently serving in Malawi as a missionary, sent in a letter to be read during the service in his absence. During the service, Tommy opened and closed in prayer and made a few comments. Dad apparently had spoken to him at some critical junctions in his life and Tommy recalled them to those present. Ken Jones read the obituary and made a few comments. He likened Dad to a pillar. That's what he was in that little church. Lloyd Maddoux spoke of the past year and half that Dad and Mom had attended his church. He said he and Dad talked about squirrel hunting and that they were talking about going hunting nearly every time they saw each other. Pastor Maddoux read Gaylord Brown's letter, which referenced talks that he and Dad had, when Dad told him things he hadn't told anyone else. CE preached the sermon and told several stories of his recollections of life as Dad's son-in-law. John Miller led the congregational singing, which included the songs "He is Here," "Surely the Presence of the Lord is in This Place," and "Holy Ground" along with the hymns "Living By Faith" and "When We All Get To Heaven." I spoke to Mom afterward and we agreed, the service was just what Dad would have liked - beginning to end.

A few months ago, at the urging of my wife, I sat down with Mom and Dad to discuss their wishes for their funerals. Dad told me that he wanted to be buried in Carter Cemetary, an old, small cemetery near a little community called Walnut Springs, where he grew up, just south of Canton, TX. Dad's first wife, Faye, is buried there. So are his parents and grand-parents, his brother, Conis and his wife, Eunice, as well as other aunts, uncles, cousins and various distant relatives.

It's been years since any of our family had been to the cemetery.  Everyone remembered the place, but no one really remembered how to get to it. It is about 30 miles from Malakoff, so we decided to have lunch before everyone went to the cemetery. When it came time to leave, the procession took off and my family and I were bringing up the rear. Before we arrived to the first turn off, I started getting phone calls...first, from my brother, then my sister, then my neice, and my nephew. "Where is this place?!" Everyone was lost. Surprisingly, I drove right to the cemetery without getting lost. After several phone calls, I gave the rest of the family directions and they were able to finally make it. We finally had the graveside service and everyone said their goodbyes and left. As we were getting things ready to leave, I couldn't help but think that with all the confusion in trying to find the old cemetery, Dad must have been looking down and laughing at all the confusion. It was all so appropriate and fitting. It was exactly what he would have liked.