He brought her back home, although she never really lived here. Her father did—lived and died and was buried here.  There were distant cousins scattered about, but she had never called here home until today, and today it still really wasn’t home.  Just the final resting place for what Death had left behind.

He had cared for her constantly since she had become ill. It was hard, hard to watch her struggle and suffer, especially on the heels of their mother’s struggling and suffering.  She had only been gone a few months when the diagnosis caught them by surprise.  But he was steadfast in his care, staying with her as he had done with their mother, even beyond the end.

Today was the final leg of the journey. The path was growing clearer and his destination was in sight.  It was to be a small graveside service—a scripture and a prayer.  Perhaps a few comforting words offered by a stranger.  When he was planning the service the funeral director mentioned that music was still an option, even if they were far removed from the technology of the building.  Portable CD players are wonderful things, especially in circumstances such as his.  The idea was appealing and he mentioned two songs that immediately came to mind, “Amazing Grace” and “Jesus Loves Me”.  He wasn’t quite certain why his thoughts came to rest on the first one.  Somehow it just seemed appropriate.  But the second had meaning, a meaning he felt inclined to share.

When his mother first grew ill, and then more so as her mind began to fade, he would sing that song to her. Even when she no longer knew him, the words calmed her, soothed her restless spirit and gave her instead, peace.  He would repeat those words for his sister when her illness began to take its toll.  And again they worked their magic, transporting her to a time in life when things were simpler, when pain and Death did not exist.

The day of the service he came to the funeral home to spend a few moments with his sister before moving to the graveside. A friend made the effort to join him and together they followed the hearse to the cemetery.  It would only be the two of them, the funeral directors, and the minister, but he knew that from the beginning.  Throughout her illness, he had been her sole caregiver, protector and guardian.  It seemed only fitting that it should end in the same manner.

They seated themselves under the tent and the familiar words of “Amazing Grace” broke the stillness. The obituary was read.  A prayer was offered.  The 23 ^rd Psalm was quoted and expounded upon.  And then, in the silence that followed, the simple melody of a child’s song filled the air.  And at that moment the years of caring, the months of waiting, the anger and the frustration and the stress of watching her slip away melted in the sunlight that filtered through the trees.  And he cried.

That one moment captured everything for which we strive. That one moment was the summation of his sister’s final days, his love and care for her, their journey together.  It is the reason we hope so fervently that each family will plan a service that reflects the life of the one they have lost, for that reflection tells their story.  And it is that story that we want to honor.

The post Tell Me the Story appeared first on Shackelford Funeral Directors | Blog.