I'm in California again for my third funeral in three months. It was wonderful to see my extended family again, but I hope this will be my last funeral for a while.
I didn't expect to cry at this funeral. I loved Grandpa, but he had lived a full life and I'm glad he's now in heaven with Grandma and the God he loved so much. I still cried like a river today, though. I think it was because it was such an emotional experience bidding farewell to the patriarch of our family. He laid such a firm foundation of character and faith for us all to build on.
Grandpa was an officer in the Air Force, so he had an honor guard at his internment. They performed a nine-gun salute, played taps on a bugle, and folded Grandpa's flag with the kind of slow, deliberate precision you might see at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
Grandpa also served in the Marine Corps during World War II, so he received a flag from that branch of the military as well. Each presenter asked us to accept the flag on behalf of a grateful nation. It was a tender reminder of the debt we owe to every veteran who has faithfully served and defended our country.
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