Flag-draped casket

Friday here was an overcast, drizzly, chilled day. And of course it was a day I had to be out getting a ton of stuff done - like license renewal. That actually didn't turn out to be so bad - for the first time ever I was in and out in under 40 minutes.

On the way out my attention was drawn to the neighboring cemetery where a funeral home was setting up a graveside service. It seemed I was immediately transported back to the graveside service for my father just over a year ago. The casket in this cemetery was draped with an American flag, just like my dad's was. The weather was almost identical - wet and cold - and so the funeral home had the tent up to protect the family members who would be arriving. The memory of my father's service was so fresh that I started sobbing in my car and thought I would have to pull over. I could picture the funeral attendants who met us at the car with umbrellas to walk us to the graveside and how cold and dreary it was under that tent. It was so hard saying goodbye to my dad that day and I felt like the heavens were sharing in my grief.

I knew the casket I saw Friday wouldn't be there alone for much longer. I knew that family and friends of that loved one who passed would soon be sitting there under that tent mourning their loss. I cried for my dad and I cried for them. I knew whoever they were, they were having a hard day.