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title: Two Funerals and a Wedding
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The first two funerals I attended in my life were years and miles apart.
They were for my two grandfathers, but they were as different as night
and day. I remember them mainly for the incredible contrast between them
and the realization that came from the experience. I classify the lesson
as one of the most important of my life's learnings.
My mother's father, Eldon Forman, died when I was only eight years old
in 1961. I still remember the phone call my mother received one evening
while we lived in Hermiston, Oregon. It was from my Grandma Forman. When
my mother heard the news of Grandpa Forman's heart attack, my mother
yelled, "Oh Mother!!" loud enough to scare the daylights out of all the
children in the house. It was my first brush with death. I was too young
to comprehend the gravity of the moment.
Our family drove to Portland a few days later to attend the funeral. My
brother Tom and I were the only ones of all my siblings that attended
the funeral with Mom and Dad. I remember looking at his still body in
the casket and Grandma Forman saying, "He's just sleeping, Dan." After
this, during the eulogies and other remarks, my brother and I were
blubbering inconsolably. The enormity of death finally sunk in. I
remember the feeling of loss and the hopelessness of ever seeing him
again. I was too young to understand the moment from an eternal
perspective. It was just lonely and so sad for an eight-year-old to have
to comprehend.
Jump forward to 1985. My grandpa Williams was gravely ill because he had
difficulties swallowing any food. He went to the hospital for surgery to
correct the problem. During the surgery, it became apparent that his
body was too weak to handle the anesthesia for the operation. His vital
signs were fading fast, so the doctors had to abort the operation before
they could correct the problem. He was told to go home and say his
good-byes to his family.
I remember the last visit with him at his home in Provo, Utah. He said,
"I'm going back home to live with my Heavenly Father." He was very weak
and frail, but totally at peace with his approaching last day in
mortality.
A week or so later, the family gathered for his funeral. I was amazed at
the mood in the Mormon chapel. There was no sadness or somber exchanges
of "sorry for your loss" phrases, like you see on the TV depictions of
funerals. Family members who had not seen each other for many months
greeted each other with delightful happiness. During the service, many
stories about Grandpa Williams were told that made everyone laugh and
chuckle. It was a genuine celebration of a life well lived. We all knew
we would see Grandpa again before long and that he had gone to a place
where he would continue his mission of doing good things for others.
Before the funeral, I still carried the dark impression of my first
funeral in my mind. I was not looking forward to the expected gloom of
the occasion. My attitude was totally transformed by the joy and
rejoicing that I found there instead. Upon reflection, I realized the
huge gift of understanding the big picture. I was 32 and had heard all
the Sunday School and seminary lessons. I even taught these things to
others in Brazil, but this experience brought it all deep into my heart.
The impact on my life and the gratitude I still feel is hard to put into
words.
By the way, I was just kidding about the wedding.
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