Avoidance/Acceptance
Thirteen. That is how many stripes are on the American flag. I have been counting them during the speaker's oration. I did not count them during the prayer, however. I did not want any children noticing an adult whose eyes were not closed.
There are more people here than I expected. My brother and I do not know half of the audience - who are these people? I have been to many gatherings like this, but I don't recall one as hot. These people are probably adding to the heat. Dressing up and attending these functions makes people nervous so their body heat increases and the room temperature soars.
I think the flag is a nice touch covering the box in a dignified manner. My sister and I did not like the cover of the box, anyway, and the flag colors are so majestic! I remember that Dad bought a flag years ago to fly on Veterans' Day, but the wind broke the small flagpole the first time we flew it and it has been in a closet ever since.
The speaker's tie clashes with the flag. There is, however, a pot of flowers behind him that kind of coordinates with the tie. They are some wild-looking blooms that seem over-sized for their stems. It's hard to believe the number of flowers - so many colors and varieties. What monetary amount do all these plants represent? Dad always sent flowers to occasions such as this. Sometimes he sent them for people he hardly knew "…just because it should be done," he would say.
By my watch, the speaker passed 20 minutes. The heat does not seem to bother him. He is talking about how we should be grateful we got to spend years of our life with the man under the flag. We should remember both the good and bad parts of his life and use him as an example because that is what he would have wanted. I've heard this before because I've been to lots of funerals. Dad had an incredible voice, and he always volunteered to sing at these gatherings. Since he would sing, he wanted us to as well. Thus, I'm not particularly interested in the words today. One can only "hear" the same speech so many times.
Seven stripes are red and six are white. They resemble the back of my legs when I used to get spankings from Dad's belt. When he had finished the job, I would have red stripes where the belt had hit and white stripes where it had not. I often wondered after such occasions whether or not Dad loved me, and it was years later when I understood those stripes were a measure of his love for me. Sitting in the hospital before he passed away let me reflect on how I might have turned out if he had not been around to set me straight.
Someone behind me is sobbing loudly so it is hard to hear, but the preacher is finishing just short of 30 minutes. That's quite an accomplishment and possibly a record in all the funerals I've attended. What did I miss that caused him to talk longer than normal? I hear singing which means the funeral directors are coming down the aisle to prepare the coffin for loading. One of them has a haircut that does not look appropriate for a man in his occupation. If Dad were here now, he would agree.
This is new for me. The men are folding the flag. I watch anxiously this tradition that I’m not too familiar with. Carefully, meticulously, they make a triangle and fold the cloth. Dad was always a meticulous person. As I get the handkerchief out of my pocket to hand it to the person behind, I notice for the first time the tears on my cheeks. The director is handing the flag to Mom. Truly it is beautiful with the stars standing out against their deep blue background. How long did it take those men to learn how to fold a flag like that? Could I do the same with this handkerchief? I believe this handkerchief came from Dad, now that I think about it.
I wish Mom would stop crying. We have witnessed this scene so many times. She knows what to expect. I think I could stop myself from crying if I would stop looking at her clutching that flag and staring at the hearse.
There are more people here than I expected. My brother and I do not know half of the audience - who are these people? I have been to many gatherings like this, but I don't recall one as hot. These people are probably adding to the heat. Dressing up and attending these functions makes people nervous so their body heat increases and the room temperature soars.
I think the flag is a nice touch covering the box in a dignified manner. My sister and I did not like the cover of the box, anyway, and the flag colors are so majestic! I remember that Dad bought a flag years ago to fly on Veterans' Day, but the wind broke the small flagpole the first time we flew it and it has been in a closet ever since.
The speaker's tie clashes with the flag. There is, however, a pot of flowers behind him that kind of coordinates with the tie. They are some wild-looking blooms that seem over-sized for their stems. It's hard to believe the number of flowers - so many colors and varieties. What monetary amount do all these plants represent? Dad always sent flowers to occasions such as this. Sometimes he sent them for people he hardly knew "…just because it should be done," he would say.
By my watch, the speaker passed 20 minutes. The heat does not seem to bother him. He is talking about how we should be grateful we got to spend years of our life with the man under the flag. We should remember both the good and bad parts of his life and use him as an example because that is what he would have wanted. I've heard this before because I've been to lots of funerals. Dad had an incredible voice, and he always volunteered to sing at these gatherings. Since he would sing, he wanted us to as well. Thus, I'm not particularly interested in the words today. One can only "hear" the same speech so many times.
Seven stripes are red and six are white. They resemble the back of my legs when I used to get spankings from Dad's belt. When he had finished the job, I would have red stripes where the belt had hit and white stripes where it had not. I often wondered after such occasions whether or not Dad loved me, and it was years later when I understood those stripes were a measure of his love for me. Sitting in the hospital before he passed away let me reflect on how I might have turned out if he had not been around to set me straight.
Someone behind me is sobbing loudly so it is hard to hear, but the preacher is finishing just short of 30 minutes. That's quite an accomplishment and possibly a record in all the funerals I've attended. What did I miss that caused him to talk longer than normal? I hear singing which means the funeral directors are coming down the aisle to prepare the coffin for loading. One of them has a haircut that does not look appropriate for a man in his occupation. If Dad were here now, he would agree.
This is new for me. The men are folding the flag. I watch anxiously this tradition that I’m not too familiar with. Carefully, meticulously, they make a triangle and fold the cloth. Dad was always a meticulous person. As I get the handkerchief out of my pocket to hand it to the person behind, I notice for the first time the tears on my cheeks. The director is handing the flag to Mom. Truly it is beautiful with the stars standing out against their deep blue background. How long did it take those men to learn how to fold a flag like that? Could I do the same with this handkerchief? I believe this handkerchief came from Dad, now that I think about it.
I wish Mom would stop crying. We have witnessed this scene so many times. She knows what to expect. I think I could stop myself from crying if I would stop looking at her clutching that flag and staring at the hearse.