A gentleman, and gentle man, passed away last week.  We met him through church, and he never failed to make the rounds of the sanctuary before church started – teasing the kids, talking to the adults and asking me where my husband had run off to this time (JD teaches Sunday School and was often caught up in conversation after his classes, so he’s not always in the pew when services start). 

My husband and son enjoyed Freddie, especially during their monthly men’s breakfasts, when Freddie would either be cooking or chatting away with everyone.  He always had a smile on his face.  Always.

Freddie and his family became a part of MY life when his step-granddaughter was removed from Freddie’s son’s household (for no apparent reason, except spite) by her mother and placed in the local children’s orphanage.  It just so happened that M then went to school where my daughters go to school – and I became a secret go-between for the families….letting Freddie and his wife know that M was ok and passing letters and cards, secretly, between Freddie’s family and M (I took on this responsibility, as an adult, because I didn’t want my daughter to get into trouble for doing it).  I felt it was only right – because M was a child, and needed love moreso now than ever before – and Freddie and his family had tons of love for M.  Unfortunately, I was also the one to have to tell M that Freddie had been diagnosed with cancer late last year.

A few months ago, a local lodge had a celebration of Freddie & his wife’s life – and M was allowed to attend.  We were so excited that she at least got to spend a few hours with her “chosen” family.

Yesterday, we attended the funeral services of Freddie.  We had only seen our church that full at Christmas Eve services, three years ago.  Freddie was loved by OH SO MANY people; I feel guilty that I was such a small part of his life, and considered him a friend….when he and his family apparently had so many more who loved him for many, many years. 

And Freddie was a jokester, amongst one of his many loving talents.  He always shared a joke, physically touching you as he talked.  It made you focus totally on him and the words he was speaking.

Our pastor who was conducting the service, mentioned that Martin Luther believed that a tombstone / grave believed that it was God’s door.  When a person was lowered into the ground, Martin Luther said that was the front door to heaven, and Freddie was getting ready to knock on it and claim his final reward.  What a beautiful sentiment!

At the cemetery, we showed reverance as the retired military performed a 21-gun salute and played Taps (which never ceases to bring a tear to my eye, as both my dad and my brother were in the military and buried with the same military flag ceremony).  Once the flag was presented to Freddie’s widow, the thunder and lightening began and the skies opened up and began to pour.  JD and I were able to get our front sides under the funeral tent, but our back sides caught the drip-off of the tent, and were soaked.  As we walked up to Freddie’s widow to pay our respects, she saw our dripping clothes and smiled.  She told JD that the last thing that Freddie prayed for was rain, so she supposed we needed to blame him for getting in the last laugh.

Godspeed Freddie – we’ll have a joke for you, in eternity.