Veterans Day Funeral for Uncle Arthur

We lost Uncle Arthur to lung cancer. It all seemed to happen very fast.

Uncle Arthur, on his 80th birthday surrounded by many who loved him.

I was away in Australia when the news came in, and upon my return, he passed away. I only had a quick visit with him in his later stages of the cancer, a sadness I will always carry with me. I would have loved more time with him.

He was loved by all who met him. Everyone felt an immediate fascination with this man,  who was genuinely curious about the world around him and the people he met. I loved that about him. I’d like to think I am  a little the same. Mom often told me I got my curious nature from what ever Fletcher gene Uncle Arthur had.

It seemed right that a man with his love of country, military service, and integrity, have his funeral on Veterans Day.

His children spoke at his funeral. (His sons-in-laws are like his own children).

My tears for Uncle Arthur and family started in Australia, they would stream rather uncontrollably at any time, I was so sad for them all. I thought I was strong at the service until Lois spoke and when we sang, “The Old Rugged Cross.”

 

The one happy part of losing Uncle Arthur is knowing he is in heaven. He had this assurance with his faith in Jesus.

The pastor of the church told the story, “Keep Your Fork, the Best is Yet to Come.”

There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things “in order”, she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. The woman also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible. Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

“There’s one more thing,” she said excitedly.

“What’s that?” came the pastor’s reply.

“This is very important,” the woman continued. “I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.”

The pastor stood looking at the woman, not knowing quite what to say. “That surprises you, doesn’t it?” the woman asked. “Well, to be honest, I’m puzzled by the request,” said the pastor. The woman explained. “In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork’.

It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming…like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance! So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder ‘What’s with the fork?’. Then I want you to tell them: “Keep your fork….the best is yet to come”.

The pastor’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman goodbye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better as coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the woman’s casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite Bible and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question “What’s with the fork?” And over and over he smiled. During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right.

So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you oh so gently, that the best is yet to come.”

 

See you later, Uncle Arthur.

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1 Response

  1. Tanya says:

    Thank you for this Barb–I wanted so badly to speak but I became so overwhelmed with sadness that I began shaking & crying. My husband who was literally holding me up asked if I would sit down, I think he was afraid I was going to pass out–I’ve been known to do this. I said yes for fear that my legs would not hold me up much longer anyway. I just hope everyone knows how deeply I loved my father… Thanks for posting this. He loved us all so much too.. I love you!

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