Statement of sadness for O.L. (Whitey) Whiten

Monday was the funeral for mom's dad. I guess I can call him grandpa... I really didn't have much contact with him in the past few years, but I sure respected that man. I have to tell you about what I know and how I feel about it. If this gets lengthy, then I apologize in advance.

I had known he was a hard worker, but what I didn't know was that he was in World War II. Not only that, but he was awarded a bevy of bars and pins, amoung which was the Iron Cross for riflery. I honestly don't know what that entails, but I'm sure it's impressive, as I myself, am impressed by it. Dad told me that there was going to be all kinds of photos at the funeral home, but I never got to see them. I didn't know where they were, as we didnt' go through the main entrance, but rather the backdoor used for entering and exiting from the limos.

I sat behind 'the kids', that being Mom, her sisters Judy and Sandra, her brother David and their respective spouses. I sat next to Tilden, Brooke's husband and I was just a few feet from Mom. I kept looking over at her, wondering what I could do to comfort her. I'm sure there's nothing I could have done that Dad couldn't have, but I wanted to reach out to her, to let her know that I loved her and was there if she needed me.

Sandra told a story towards the end of the service, about a interaction she had with her father a few weeks before his passing. The girls had been staying with him everyday, 'rotating' in and out in the evenings, every night for the past month or so, as he needed constant care, and often times when he was fixed dinner, he didn't have much of an appetite, and sometimes would just lay in bed for hours. Sandra said that her and Austin, her husband, made dinner and brought it over to Daddy's house for a bite to eat. When she got there, grandpa was in his chair, sitting up and smiling, seemed to be a really good mood. She hadn't seen this side of him in several months, so she was pleasently surprised! She asked him why the change, and he told her of a dream he had that afternoon. He was feeling bad that morning and thought he would lay down for a nap to get some energy back. When he fell asleep, he dreamed that God had come to call him home to Heaven. O.L. said he didn't want to go, that he wasn't ready. He said that God then took his right shoulder in his hand and told him that it wasn't his time to go yet. When he woke up, there on his shoulder, the same one that God had placed his hand on in the dream, was a small bird perched there. A bird, in a house that was closed up, mind you, just sitting on his shoulder. I thought that was interesting that this happened. Sandra then went on to say that after she was told this story, she asked her father where the bird came from. He told her he didn't know, that he must have left a window cracked or it flew it a hole somewhere. But Sandra, as myself, believed something else. That bird was a message, and no matter how it got in, it was not an accident. That meal he ate that evening was the best he had in a long time. I'm sure it tasted delicious and he ate all he could. Sometimes a good attitude can do wonders for the appetite.

During the graveside service, there was a military group made up of retired men that served their country for the presention of the colors and the salute. Remembering that he was in WWII, this made sense to me. There was a wonderful 21 gunshot salute, and then the folding and presentation of the flag which went to the eldest child, Judy. I broke completely down when they folded that flag. It was if it wasn't really final until they did that. With such careful attention to detail and tradition, they folded it in the military style that I myself did in Boy Scouts and each member saluted that American symbol of Freedom. Even now I'm getting a little teary-eyed just remembering it. The seven men in the gun detail, which had been at ease since the gun salute, were back at attention and saluted the procedure as well. The honor O.L. commanded even now was great and it was a great privilage to witness it with the family.

After the precher said a final prayer, people would come down the line and offer condolences to the family. I stood behind Brooke and Amy, who were behind Mom and Dad. Amy said, "I'm going to see Mom." and I followed her. Mom was a wreck, as I imagine I'll be when my father passes on. Amy gave her a hug and tears flowed as emotion was shared. When Amy stepped to the side, I just held onto mom and burried my head in her shoulder. Who was comforting who here I now ask myself. I was so sad for her, for the family, for myself for the eventual death of my own father. She told me something to the effect that she was so glad I was there, that she loved me very much. All I could muster was "Ahhh loooow ooouuu" I couldn't form words I was crying so hard. Right now, I'm fighting back tears that are coming already. Just thinking back to it is hard to do dry-eyed. I pulled away and she looked me in the eyes and thanked me for being there. Thank me? Thank you Mom for being there for me!

I have to say, that even though Nancy is not my birth mom, she came into my life when I really needed a mother. Mine had lost her battle to cancer and I was in a really bad mood not to mention a very delicate place in my life. She did everything she could and did a damn fine job. Nancy had won me over very quickly, on the first day we were introduced and I'm very glad my father married her. I look on her with as much respect and love and admiration as I do my own mother, which is quite a bit. Nancy Jane is a wonderful person, and I'm honored I could have been there with her when she laid her father to rest. He fought a long, tough battle with cancer too and I know, I KNOW it is very painful to watch. I empathize with her and the rest of the family. She's my mom. And I love her very much.

It was a mostly silent ride back home in the limo from the graveside. With the exception of my cousin Mark telling us about the time he rolled his tractor trailer over a ledge, and his brother Jason telling me about his time at the Texas Speedway, we sat in morose contemplation of what just happened. We buried a great man that day, and we all respected him. Tears were shed, and lots of emotion was bared to all to witness. But the greatest thing was the stories people were telling of this man's life over the course of the day. I wish I had thought to bring my voice recorder, because I don't know if I'll ever get another chance for that many people gathered again, especially his brother and mom's cousins, all kinds of family that knew him in his younger days. I look forward to the next Christmas, as I'm sure everyone else is. I love this family, even though they are surroget to me. They are all wonderful and I love them as much as my blood kin.

Godspeed O.L., on your way to Heaven. Your hard battle is over, your long rest is due and your place next to God is ensured. I hope to see you on the other side some day.