Finding Comfort

In the summer of 2003 my Mom's youngest sister died of cancer. We had known of her status as being terminal for several months and it saddened us deeply but she told us not to fret for she knew where she was going once her life with us had ended.

She was an aunt I held in high regard for we shared many common interests among them learning and preserving our family history. While I cannot say I got the passion for genealogy from her, she encouraged me as I pursued our history sometimes together or on separate paths.

I saw her for the last time one week prior to her passing. Even then she wanted me to provide her with information for her calendar of the dates for her grandparents which I did. Even though the morphine and the pain must have been horrific still she was thinking of others at that late stage.

At the funeral I found comfort not in the words the minister said but in the music played or sung. I don't recall any particular song that was played at the funeral only that they were comforting.

The old songs brought me comfort even before the funeral as songs for such an occasion ran through my mind. The tunes kick in from time to time also bring remembrance.

I have found little or no comfort in the modern songs of the religious tone. The old hymns now largely forgotten waiting to be sung are rich with words of comfort if one takes the time to listen to what they have to say.

My aunt had planned her own funeral but I don't believe she really knew how big an impact her life had had upon others. Our family is not large but friends, co-workers, people whose life she had touched all came to bid her farewell. The procession from the funeral home to the cemetery about 15 miles away was the largest procession I have ever seen for a non-royal person.

We were about half way in the procession because I didn't get in the family line and yet many vehicles were behind us. At least 75 vehicles comprised the procession. As we passed through the town, men on a construction site stopped their work, removed their hats in respect. Further on a woman mowing her lawn stopped as well.

Now six years have come and gone since her passing and I still miss her. I find comfort in the old songs who tell of where she's gone, where she's waiting for her family.