Vernie's funeral was today.
Thomas went to the viewing last night because he knew he wouldn't be able to make the funeral today. I wasn't sure if either of the kids would feel up to going; neither of them has been able to deal well with funerals since my dad died -- neither have I, but I've still gone.
Well, Eler Beth decided she wouldn't go, but Andrew said he'd feel bad if he missed it, since he'd known Vernie all his life, and I wanted to at the very least see Vernie's widow and express my condolences. So he and I went. We saw Jean as soon as we went in and gave her a hug. She looked like she was doing pretty well under the circumstances. She had all her kids and grandkids there. We spoke to a lot of other friends, and my sisters-in-law and some of my nieces-in-law were there. I did very well when I saw Vernie in the casket, his WWII photo beside him. But when I went to look at the display of other pictures they had I couldn't handle it and started crying. I told Andrew I'd have to step out to get myself composed, and my 20-year-old son put his arm around me (!!!) and gave me a squeeze and said we could go ahead and leave if I wanted to. Turns out I was staying for him and he was staying for me.
I never used to loose it like that at funerals but now they are very hard for me. Usually I can get through the funeral or memorial service and only toward the end do I get teary. But today it went beyond teary.
It's kind of a gloomy day anyway, and I am so tired, as if I hadn't slept much or well, so maybe my nerves are a bit compromised anyway.
Oh well, sorry for this gloomy bit of an entry. Thanks for indulging me.