A Loving Tribute to a Godly Man

I am now home from Connecticut where I’d been for almost three weeks, staying with my sister, 78, while my brother-in-law Joe, 83, was under hospice care for his final struggle with Parkinson’s Disease.  I rode up with Cyndi and Bill, making it from Angier, North Carolina to Fairfield, CT in one day.

I can’t say enough good things about hospice. Joe had round the clock care with nurses, male and female, who were caring, efficient, people of faith. One male nurse even made breakfast for my sister one morning because he wanted to make sure she ate and kept up her strength. Another nurse came to the funeral to pay her respects.

The funeral service was the epitome of honor, respect, dignity, and love.  Joe was a Marine, then a Fairfield policeman for years. The day started with a member of the police force coming to the door to say he’d be guarding the house while we were at the viewing. Then the police honor procession carrying the flag-draped casket drove slowly past the house while we all stood outside and watched them go by, their lights flashing.

In the viewing room, two uniformed policemen stood at attention by the casket. The guards changed with a white-gloved salute every fifteen minutes. Joe was laid out in his sergeant’s uniform and badge. People came in droves to pay tribute to this godly servant and to my sister, another godly servant. 

The service itself began with bagpipes leading the more than fifteen family members into the sanctuary and ended with a Marine bugler playing Taps. In between, Tammy and Cyndi and other family members spoke from the heart about the impact Joe made on their lives. My son-in-law Curtis sang Amazing Grace. Joe’s grandson, in full Navy uniform, handed the folded flag to my sister while barely being able to contain his own grief. A reception followed where people could mingle and renew acquaintances. People had come from California, Florida, Vermont, New York, North Carolina, and other states to say “Goodbye, Joe.”

Now I’m home and able to resume my life that’s been put on hold for a few weeks while my sister learns to cope without her husband of fifty-nine years. I am more than thankful that I’m now on the East Coast where I could be there for her. Cyndi and Bill were a Godsend, making sure her every wish was carried out before she even knew what it was she wanted. In the days since, my sister has started to relax as she sheds the heavy caretaker’s mantle she’s worn for so long. Her voice is stronger than it’s been in years; I know she’s going to be alright. And at this moment, Joe is most likely asking St. Peter how he can be of assistance since it’s never been his nature to sit idle for very long, especially if someone needs help.

Goodbye, Joe, we’ll see you again one of these days.

Thought for the day: Come home! Come home! Ye who are weary come home! From the hymn, Softly and Tenderly, Jesus is Calling. This hymn was playing at the moment Joe was received into Heaven.