A memorial

It takes no less than 6 people to fold a flag. It's a very slow, deliberate and meticulous process. It is a very heartfelt and honorable process. But until today at a friend's father's memorial service, I never realized how much care went into the process. Nor did I realize the extreme emotion that can accompany the act.

I met my friend's dad a handful of times over the years. He was always jolly. He was always polite. He was a whole lot more than that.

It was such a phenomenon to me, this memorial service. It was purely an expression of what people loved about the man and how he affected their life. There was no music except for Shania Twain crooning in the background as we walked in. There was no singing. No "come to Jesus" speech by the Chaplin. In fact, the Chaplin was merely there as a director. He asked people to stand or come to the microphone and share their experiences and special stories of the deceased. At least half of the people there shared a story and although I didn't really know the man, I was extremely touched by what he meant to everyone else. Three times the Chaplin stood to close out the service and three times someone else had just one more tale to tell.

It was really the best service I've ever attended.