Obstinate and opinionated, there was no one like him. He would poke poke poke at people just to elicit a response...good or bad...usually the latter. He knew horses, he knew people. He loved his family -- those grandkids were his light.
He was married to Jess for three years. Three good years from what I know. It was obvious from the moment I saw them together, they were just right.
He had health issues but insisted that "they exaggerate" when he'd be hospitalized or laid-up.
The POW/MIA motorcycle group and the military were there to send Glenn off today. The rows of cycles with flags was amazing.
At his funeral, the priest was the oldest guy there. He was cute but you could tell he didn't know Glenn, nor the family. So he didn't elaborate on all he knew of Glenn. Instead he went the "We know not the day nor the hour" route and was headed for "be prepared, keep clean thy soul". However, he was getting a bit distracted and launched into "You might be in a car crash, you might get really sick. You might died at home in bed like Glenn did, but you also might have a bad thing happen to you. You might lose an arm, you might agonize and have a long, drawn-out death." At that point, I realized that he forgot where he was going and I nearly burst out into tears of laughter.
Until I looked at Glenn's dad. His face was screwed up in anguish over his sadness. Waves of sorrow washed over me and I struggled to sing "The Old Rugged Cross."
It was wonderful to see how the family welcomed Kim, Glenn's former wife, and acknowledged her loss as well. Glenn and Kim were friends for a long time.
And at the gravesite was Winnie, Glenn's french bulldog. She looked beautiful (fat) and had a little bow on as well. The gravesite is another story. Glenn found this cemetery when he first moved back to the Randall area -- no one has been buried there for over 40 years. It took some doing, but that's where he got to go to rest. I began to wonder after what seemed like the first half hour how far away the cemetery was. An Amoco truck pulled off and parked not far from the gravesite...perhaps to help people re-fuel to get back to town.
I'd like to be able to apologize to the guy in front of me with the cochlear implant. I sang right into it. He'll either need a new one or a major overhaul.
I'm sorry this is so discombobulated. I'm not thinking wholly straight right now. A day of sadness, introspection and low spirits have left me less than my normal well-versed self.
Just know this: No Old Rugged Cross for me please. People come to a funeral sad. Then they always play those sad songs. To hell with that. Stairway to Heaven. That is all.
1 comment:
Sorry to hear about your loss, I had no idea! I like your stairway to heaven idea though!
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