Today I attended my uncle's funeral. He was in his late eighties and his family was not so much mourning as rejoicing that he was no longer suffering but that he had moved on to Glory.
With my headlights turned on and a funeral flag placed on my car, I drove through town and about half a dozen red traffic lights as I followed the funeral procession. Crossing over a major highway and through yet another red light - all hurried motorists came to a standstill while watching our vehicles file through in front of them en route to the cemetery. I felt special, being a part of something that
created this much respect.
This was funeral with Military honors, since Uncle Roy had served in WWII. Attending a military funeral is a wonderful experience. I hadn't been to one since my Dad's funeral many years ago, and I had forgotten. Other comrades in full uniform who had served in that same war filed one by one to the front where he lay, respectfully saluted him, and left. It gave me chill bumps. At the cemetery there were guns fired, taps played, and the presenting of the folded flag to the family. How could you not get teary?!
Today I saw something I hadn't seen in a very long time.
It was genuine and heartfelt.
In one word - Respect.
