Where the wild things are...

Had a funeral to attend a couple of weeks back. Friends of the family, well actually, distantly related, from my dad's side. They own a farm in Pitt Meadows, and the grandfather had just passed away. Just a month after one of his sons died, if I'm correct.

Anyways, get to the funeral home and walk up to see the body, resting all peaceful in the casket, but you can sense the cold from the skin and acknowledge that the character has left that vessel. Then I made eye-contact with one of his sons (who was a real good friend of my dad), in his late 40s, eyes glazed over.

Found a pew near the back. Far enough to limit the sound of the ladies crying in the front rows, but not too far to appear disgraceful.

After the ceremony everyone congregates in the lobby. The son finds me and walks up. Knowing that my own father had passed away 8 years ago now (seems like yesterday), he doesn't let go of my hand after the shake and asks me "how did you hold up?"

Normally I'm really quiet at things like these, but i don't know what came over me. I looked him back in the eyes and replied:

"When I was little and the family would go out on excursions to the stores or to visit friends and family, I would always reach up my hand and grab onto one of my dad's fingers. Because at that age, my dad was the strongest and bravest man in the world. No one could contend with my dad. I could walk into any jungle and know that my dad would always be there and I could always reach up and hold his hand.

Of course, as years went by, I came to know that everyone has flaws, nobody is perfect, and neither was my dad. I would rebel, go against his wishes and state that I was my own man.

But that day he died was the one moment in my life where I didn't know what to do, how to handle myself, or act like that 'man' I said I was. I was little again, and if I was to reach up for security, his hand wouldn't be there anymore. And I realized that I had gotten through those rebellious years knowing deep down inside that if I ever needed to reach up, his hand would have always been there for me.

So I hold up now, hoping I learned from him and knowing that one day I'll have my own child reaching up for my hand as they walk into that jungle. I'll try to be as strong and brave as my dad was, and I thank him everyday for that."

Been a while since I've been bear-hugged by a grown man.