Always Look On The Bright Side of Life

Some things in life are bad,

They can really make you mad.
Other things just make you swear and curse.
When you're chewing on life's gristle,
Don't grumble, give a whistle!
And this'll help things turn out for the best 
And 
Always look on the bright side of life! …

If life seems jolly rotten,
There's something you've forgotten!
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing,
When you're feeling in the dumps,
Don't be silly chumps,
Just purse your lips and whistle -- that's the thing!
And always look on the bright side of life 

“Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” is a song I have come to love. Is Life treating you poorly? Find the bright side. Find joy.

Philippians 4:8&9

8 Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things. 9 The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you.

Paul encouraged the people of the Church at Philippi to think of the best.

So...

Think of something that makes you laugh.

Think of something that makes you smile.

Think of something that makes you dance.

Think of something to sing.

Think of something to whistle.

Before Dad passed, I considered the day of the funeral would be full of Joy.

I had reached and passed by more than a year the age my father was when I was born. I did not believe I would reach that age with him alive, but I reached it. I remember having lunch on the day I passed the exact age year, month, day, and minute. He was living in his nineties. I was surprised he lived through his seventies, through his eighties, and now he had reached ninety-five. I had many more years than expected. I was blessed with time.

So many more hugs. Even a few fist pumps. Just siting with Dad. I experienced great blessing with so many moments of love expressed. I learned to express love better. To show love and not be afraid. What a wonderful gift Dad gave me.

I imagined I would go from table to table collecting memories. But I only collected one new story. It was a great story however.

Funerals are how we begin to say goodbye. The beginning of remembering. For it is not enough time from a person's death to funeral It never is. So you move forward and continue the process of grieving and of remembering.

Remembering the laughter shared. The smiles shared.

The time spent in the shop with him.

All the great memories. Looking through and scanning all the pictures mom has at the farm is helping to see the bright side of life.

Always look on the bright side of life.

Weird and Wonderful

Two words, weird and wonderful, are not words I would have expected to describe theses last two months. Weird I can understand, but wonderful?

But I found many moments of wonderful?

Hugging my brother Jim was wonderful as we briefly cried together next to dad's body. Most of my hugs were with Dad and Mom. It was the first time I hugged Jim. I was hugging a lot that next week and month. Even hugging some other men who are not huggers. Dad had helped me with getting comfortable with hugging. One time a couple of years back I did not hug someone because I was not feeling the freshest, and I regretted not giving her a hug. I feel a need to hug others now.

Singing the Beatles song “Good Night” as I lay next to his body. With Spotify having the Beatles available, I have been able to hear all of the Beatles recordings. “Good Night” is a song I had not heard until Spotify carried it. Golden Slumbers seemed to be for a female, while “Good Night” works for anyone. We say rest in peace when talking of those who have passed, and a lullaby seemed so appropriate.

Putting together the videos we had with Dad for the funeral and then reworking it again afterward when I had more time. I so enjoyed the creative expression. I am not good at making something requiring an artistic touch; I don't eyeball things well. Making a video is very precise, but yet it allows for creativity. I need to interview Mom and put together a video of mom telling of her and Dad's story.

Holding my mom's hand while sitting at the table in Dad's chair and saying his prayer before the meal. I loved hearing Dad pray before lunch. I made a couple of recordings of it. While it may have slight variations at different times, it is the same.

Dear Lord.

We thank you now for this Day.

We thank you now or this food.

We ask now that you be with us, and guide us.

We pray this in your precious name.

Amen.

Not that it was the only time I saw him pray. One morning when I was home, shortly before he passed, I walked into the living room looking into the kitchen seeing Dad holding Mom's hand while they prayed. It was so sweet I wanted to take a picture, but it seemed very private as well. In 2008 after Dad had broken his hip while at Church camp during the healing service, I asked to pray for Dad. So I prayed with Dad for his hip. During times of struggle Dad would pray. So it was not just before meals.

A good talk with my brother Paul. As I took him to the Airport, we had a good discussion. I don't talk with him too much, and we had a good conversation as I drove him to Fargo.

Listening over and over again to the songs selected for the funeral. I made a playlist of the songs sung at the funeral and two songs used as music before the service One being “Good Night” by The Beatles. The others were “There is a River”, pre-service music, then “I'll Fly Away”, and “Life's Railway to Heaven”. (I remember watching RFD-TV show “Country Gospel Reunion” when she told me of that being a good song for either of their funerals.) Finally “God Be With You.” Those songs now hold such precious memories and give me such comfort.

Sitting at Dad's spot on the couch, and looking through his Bible at scripture he underlined. He did not just read his Bible he worked through it, underlining passages and studying it. The Bible was not a passive object to him but something that was living.

It was wonderful to wear his BetaSeed hat as I worked on the farm. Touching, wearing or sitting what he touched, wore, and sat connects me to him. It makes him feel close to me. And it brings me comfort.

Many things are not as I thought they would be, many of the things I have experienced are weird and wonderful.

Dad would hold Mom's hand while they would pray. 

“...Dad passed away”

Dad wanted to have a garden so we purchased some seed  and did some planting.

I had thought about the many scenarios when dad died. What would I do if I was at work, at my apartment or my parents home? My brother, Paul would have to be told by phone, and it would have to be voice to voice, not text and no leaving a message. I did not want to tell Jim by phone but face to face.

But things don't always go as we wish.

When informed I was not alone. I was with mom, and in a sense with Dad. Jim was alone. I did not want him to be alone when I told him.

Now, two months later, I am not 100% certain who I told first. I suspect Jim. He would have been the one brother who would be able to do something immediately. I told each one the same thing.

“Sometime between 4 and 4:30, Dad passed away.”

It was straightforward and to the point, but yet seemed like it was not the right words. But what else could one say?

Many other people I imagined telling face to face. As many cousins as possible, and the pallbearers. Also, I imagined I would tell his sister Doris, face to face. News like this seems too impersonal over the phone  But I was home already. So phone calls were used.

When Jim arrived at the farm, about 8:30 in the morning, Tim Anderson of the funeral home was discussing things with Mom. I greeted Jim at the front door, walked with him to the bedroom.

He looked at Dad and began to sob. I joined him in sobbing. It has been the only time cried since his death. I don't know why that was the only time I cried. It was brief but beautiful.

I opened up my arms; he approached me, and I embraced him. In the many years before Dad passing, I would give my father many hugs. I was now a hugger. During this moment of sadness, It was splendid to hug Jim and sob with him.