It had been almost a full week since our son's death. I was finally faced with his funeral service. This was to be the last celebration of his life. Everything we had gone through in the past days had been pointing to this event. The accident, standing in the middle of the street wondering what had happened, the unnecessary trip to the hospital, learning the awful truth, the phone calls, visitors, flowers, food, cards, the mortuary, the cemetery, people coming in from out of town, the church, the memorial service, the visitation service, well-intentioned comments, the unfathomable anger, the unbearable aching in my soul, the bitterness, the guilt all had been present because of the necessity of this event. I once again found myself emotionally conflicted between wanting the service to be done and over, so I would know I'd survived it, but at the same time realizing that when the funeral was over there would only be one thing left to do-the burial.
When we arrived at the church, there were again already many people present. Both ministers from the Methodist Church and our home church greeted us, assuring us that everything was prepared and the service should run smoothly. The bus carrying the band students was already parked alongside the sanctuary, and the students were busy getting ready for their part of the service. I remember thinking how wonderfully amazing it was that virtually all of the students in the band wanted to honor Curtis in the best way they knew how-by playing the same music of which he had been a part. One of the parents in the band booster group almost always videotaped all of the band's performances, and I noticed him setting up his gear at the back of the church. I wondered if he would be filming the entire service or just the band's performance, but before I could ask him my attention was diverted elsewhere.
Everything seemed to be ready as the time for the funeral service to begin drew nearer. Before I took my seat at the front of the sanctuary, I scanned the growing crowd of mourners. Of course, there were all of our family members, neighbors, friends, work colleagues, church friends, but there were also people we didn't really know who had heard of our tragedy and wanted to offer their support. There were the band students and many of their parents. There were many of Curtis's friends from his elementary and middle school years. There were his friends and teammates from his few months as a high school student. There were Casey's and Carly's friends there to support them. There were people from Curtis's doctors' offices. In fact, there were so many people, that just before the service began we were told by the funeral director that one of the traffic escort officers needed to speak to us. It seems that as people entered the church parking lot the officers asked if they would be going to the cemetery. There were so many people who wanted to attend the burial service that the officer said they were going to need more escorts. We had only planned on four. They estimated that they would need at least twice that number. We were amazed and gratified that so many people wanted to support us on this most difficult day. The officer told us that they could get more help ready while the service was going on, but they needed our approval since we would have to pay extra for the additional officers. We gave our OK, and as I turned to go back into the church I thought to myself, "Curtis, you're going out like a rock star!"
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