It was a grey, overcast day. There was no color. There was no sunshine.
But there was wind.
And not just little gusts that play with your hair, so soft you barely notice. This was stronger—a firmer wind that demanded attention.
When we walked in, the entrance was lined with pictures. I remembered lots of them from when we first became friends and I looked through her Facebook. They were happy pictures. So full of color and life and vibrancy. In all of the pictures, the one I noticed the most was of them on the day the baby was born. A tender kiss being exchanged.
The service was beautiful. It highlighted him by sharing stories of sending his brother to the moon in a styrofoam cooler, and how he loved adventure and loved to laughed. But more than that, it served as a doorway, opened to Jesus, which is what I would have thought he would've wanted—to not be the center of it all. He didn't seem like like the lime light type.
And she was beautiful. Wavy, dirty blonde hair. Nude heels. The dress she wore when she was pregnant. It suited her so well. She was a light in an otherwise dark place. She smiled. Like everything was going to be okay. And I think, genuinely, she knew it would be. As the baby cooed and giggled in the background, held by family, I think her hope was lit like a fire.
"Death cannot kill what cannot die." These were the words of the pastor that struck me the most and then he went into the salvation story. He spoke of him coming to him on a Saturday night and wanting to be saved. Of giving his life to the Lord. There was hope that he left this world knowing God and because of the service that others may know God.
As the final motion, we listened to their wedding song. The one by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. The picture of him looked like he was in front of a barn with a bright green shirt on. And it just felt like he was there. It didn't feel like he was really gone.
We gathered ourselves and walked out to the burial site and watched as doves were released.
"I said, 'Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.'" Psalm 55:6
And the wind whipped. And the doves flew.
And all I want to remember is how much the baby was smiling and how it felt like there was a divine peace enveloping us with a promise of provision and hope, because...
...to be absent in the body is to be present with the Lord.
“Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it.”
― Victor Hugo
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