From today's Times and News-Star
He
stood as the soloist sang near the casket, and it didn’t surprise me at all.
Then
the pallbearers stood, and then I stood, and everyone at the funeral stood, mostly
in honor of the message of the song but also in honor of a man who could no
longer stand with us. By then, the tug was too strong.
At
a funeral, I’d never been a part of anything quite like it.
Jay
died at 58, most unexpectedly, three weeks ago this Sunday morning. He was to
go on his paper route and then on to church, where he sang bass most faithfully
for our choir, right behind my wife and the altos.
But
a massive heart attack changed that and ended on Earth a life like the ones we
as children thought everyone led: Little League coach, Lion’s Club member,
Jaycee, Scout Master, honest businessman, hometown boy.
Then
you grow up and learn, often painfully, that Jay was sadly the exception to the
rule. There are a lot of wonderful people in the world, but few decide to ease
about as quietly and as efficiently and as selflessly as Jay did.
The
church’s first three rows were filled with his family, and I knew soon after
the service started that this would be no “ordinary” funeral. The congregation
sang “Because He Lives” and I looked at the family and they were singing every
word, including his mother, standing, her eyes closed and her singing strong,
though just 10 feet removed from her son’s casket.
Four
members of his family spoke, each briefly and each telling you a bit more about
Jay than you knew before. He was quite often a bit late, for instance. One
mid-December Wednesday evening the church bus, talking the choir caroling, had
to stop when someone saw Jay running down South Main Street in pursuit. Jay’s
brother said it felt odd to be in church when, on this Thursday morning, he’d
normally be looking at Jay in their insurance office. “Well, it’s only 10:30,”
he said, “but I’d like to at least THINK Jay would be in by now.”
His
twin “baby” sister by five minutes said her brother was so nice that he even
agreed to take a college class with her, just to please her. “It was old English
romantic literature,” she said, noting it was one of her brother’s few regrets.
And
his brother-in-law spoke of Jay’s servant’s heart, his love for country. “He
never served in the military,” he said, then pointing toward Boy Scout Troop
45, four rows deep, in full uniform, he added, “but Jay served his country,
every day; he was the most patriotic person I’ve ever known.”
So
by the time the soloist got to the third verse of “It Is Well With My Soul,”
the stage was sort of set, I guess. There was a spirit, a feeling of tragedy
and loss mixed with goodness and hope, and when the music kicked up a bit and
the words kicked in …“Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be
sight, The clouds be rolled back as a scroll…,” everybody just
started standing, in honor of the spirit present and a promise kept, in honor
of this man, brother, son, husband, father and friend.
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