The last two days
Jul. 21st, 2010 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amanda_loddenFuneral. Lots of family. Kids are growing up too fast; the toddler that drew pictures while I talked to Anita is now almost six, and freaking adorable (so is her older sister).
Five, count 'em, FIVE separate "warnings" from my family that my father would be attending. By the last few, it had crossed into ridiculous and I was laughing at it. I wonder if he got as many warnings about me being there? (I understand their concern, and it was sweet, but really... it's okay.) I established what to call him-- the title "Dad" belongs to my father-in-law, and I didn't want to address him by his first name without checking with him that he's alright with it (he is, but he prefers "Len" over his full name). Interestingly, for all the time I'd spent worrying about how to handle the name thing, once he said it was okay to call him "Len" I became more comfortable with thinking of him as "Dad". Perhaps someday we might get there.
This was my first military funeral. Even knowing that there would be a 21-gun salute, I still nearly jumped out of my skin when the first 7 rounds were fired. The precision and formality was fascinating; while others were moved by the honor guard playing Taps, I found the most tear-jerking part to be the soldier who presented my aunt with the folded flag, who dropped to one knee and recited a formal speech, and then once he finished with the ceremonial bit he grasped her hand and offered his own personal condolences; the dichotomy between the two tones was what hit me hardest.
Five, count 'em, FIVE separate "warnings" from my family that my father would be attending. By the last few, it had crossed into ridiculous and I was laughing at it. I wonder if he got as many warnings about me being there? (I understand their concern, and it was sweet, but really... it's okay.) I established what to call him-- the title "Dad" belongs to my father-in-law, and I didn't want to address him by his first name without checking with him that he's alright with it (he is, but he prefers "Len" over his full name). Interestingly, for all the time I'd spent worrying about how to handle the name thing, once he said it was okay to call him "Len" I became more comfortable with thinking of him as "Dad". Perhaps someday we might get there.
This was my first military funeral. Even knowing that there would be a 21-gun salute, I still nearly jumped out of my skin when the first 7 rounds were fired. The precision and formality was fascinating; while others were moved by the honor guard playing Taps, I found the most tear-jerking part to be the soldier who presented my aunt with the folded flag, who dropped to one knee and recited a formal speech, and then once he finished with the ceremonial bit he grasped her hand and offered his own personal condolences; the dichotomy between the two tones was what hit me hardest.
