So the oldest male of each of grandma's children's children were selected to be pallbearers, one from each of the six families, but Bryce the oldest grandson and indeed eldest grandchild of all of us couldn't make it, and since he's the only Loveland son, it somehow King Ralph'd to me (a second son) to be a pallbearer this morning. So I was one of those.
The funeral service was exquisite, just the perfect wet/dry eye combo. It was like tearing into a freshly baked panera flatbread, Goldilocks warm with the crispness and the moistness in sublime harmony, and with just the perfect amount of honey drizzled over it. Panera? I think I'm getting my flatbreads straight. Whatever.
People seemed to notice my lapel pins on my suit coat for the first time ever, though I've had them since halfway through last semester. Dad this morning even thought I'd gotten them at the BLFC. There is one pin, a big one amongst the little ones, that I'd worn to that which I don't wear to formal occasions, and yet a different big one which had been part of the ensemble back at school (advertising the McKay library,) but those are all different stories.
As a pallbearer there was this flower that got stuck in my lapel, and when the grandchildren all arraigned flowers in a line on the casket after it had been placed at the site where it was to be buried, that's the flower we six used, each from our respective lapels or shirts.
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