The Funeral

After spending a few days with Eric's mom we decided to spend a night at home. So we left her house in the late afternoon on Saturday, November 2. We had some things we needed to get together before the funeral and my awesome neighbor and friend, Jobi was giving us free haircuts. (She must've felt somewhat inspired because it was exactly what the boys needed and I just wasn't feeling up to doing it for them.) Jobi came by around 9 on Saturday night and did some quick, fantastic work and I then went about getting everyone's Sunday best together x2. The kids needed something for the viewing on Sunday night and something for the funeral on Monday. I wanted to make sure I didn't forget something so we did it Saturday night.

Sunday we had a slow morning and headed back to Eric's mom's. We had a quick lunch/dinner (can't remember the time frame really) and then got ready to go to the church. Eric couldn't decide whether or not to head to the church with his mom and brother or if he should stay and help me out. I told him he could go, but he knew I needed a bit of help so he stayed and helped get the last of the kids ready.

When we got to the church, I found a corner for the kids and I to stay in. I knew it'd be a long night and that the kids didn't really need to be there all night, so thankfully my mom and sisters volunteered to take the kids back to my mom's so they could unwind.

I felt a little odd without my kids around me and Eric had to stand in line or whatever they call it, so I still stuck in my corner and ended up visiting with Eric's moms family, which we're fairly close to - so it was okay.

I always feel odd at viewings and never know quite how I'll react to seeing the dead body, but amazingly I did okay. The way the funeral home arranged things was quite nice and I was pleased to see how the big canvas prints turned out.

It was an emotional night and I was pleased to see our good friends, the Wildings and the Wards both come to show their support. It meant so much to me to see them there and it really helped break up the monotony. There were a few people from the ward that talked to me (we used to live in the ward) and caught up with our lives.

When the viewing was over we went back to Mom's and crashed. We had an early morning ahead of us and I knew getting 6 kids ready wasn't going to be the highlight of my day.

The kids were actually very cooperative and we were all ready early. I was happy when Tanis decided he'd wear one of Grandpa's ties (I think he did for the viewing as well). It was a little big, but we hid it under his suit coat. He felt happy to be able to do something like that.

There was another hour long viewing, where I tried to keep the kids in line, in our little corner again. At one point, Ailey looks up at me and says, "I don't want anyone touching him, or he'll come back alive." Then came the family meeting and that's when I lost it. It was emotional to see all of my father in laws siblings saying their final goodbyes and even more so when Eric and his brothers and Mom did so. While I wanted so badly to say mine as well, I just couldn't do it.

Then came the actual funeral. My little sister and parents kept Jace with them through the meeting and interment, because it was a cold day and I wasn't quite ready to let Jace be outside in the cold that long. I don't think I really stopped crying during the entire funeral. Eric's brothers and he all gave wonderful eulogies. I share Eric's now:

"Good morning. For those who don't know me, my name is Eric Hardy. I am the youngest son to Duane and Shirley. My brothers had me go first so the bar would be set really low for them.

These past five months have been...eventful. Never in my life have I felt so many emotions so frequently. Sometimes it would seem like I had an emotion dial, and God was playing spin the emotion to see where it would land. Anger, loneliness, self-doubt, but also: happiness, accomplishment and most importantly, love. It is so easy to focus on the bad emotions and get caught up. My family has been extremely blessed. We have so many people showing us their love and support. I can't put to words the gratitude we feel in our hearts. For me, it's this love and gratitude that has helped me focus on the positive and allow myself to process the grief in a much more manageable manner.

Before I start talking about my dad, I want to take one minute and pay tribute to another man. I have a confession to make. Growing up I was always really close with my Grandma and Grandpa W., despite them living in Nebraska. However, my relationship with my Grandpa Hardy was always awkward, despite him living in Salt Lake City and frequent Sunday visits. As I was little I would always get a weird feeling in my grandfather's presence. I never knew what that feeling was. When I was grown, I was much too busy to remember those feelings. It took my father being diagnosed with Cancer for me to finally put a name to that feeling. I was awestruck. You see, my father was my hero, but this man...this man raised my hero. I look forward to the day when I can rejoin them and rekindle our relationship.

I hope my family can bear with me and forgive my next few comments. You see, my father had one rather large, and incredibly embarrassing - to us kids, bad quality. Based on the fact that you are all here,it's a safe bet that you all knew my father. Just in case you forgot, let me share a brief moment in the past that my mother shared with me once.

During her BYU days, my mother was attending a dance that my father missed. A guy that grew up in my dad's home ward knew that my mother and father were dating. He approached my mother and asked her to dance. No, we are not sure of his reasons - but as they were dancing he asked my mother if she knew about my father's temper. My mother just laughed it off, until shortly after their marriage...

One might think that due to this temper, my father was a dangerous or violent man. Well, let me shift your perspective just a little bit. What most people don't realize is that temper belongs to the protector. The man who would step in front of anyone in this room and defend them against threat and persecution. The problem is when driving in Utah, threat is a daily thing...

One might also think that due to this temper my father was not very Christ-like. They would be wrong. In order to clarify this, I have broken the next little bit of my talk into three sections: dad at play, dad at work and dad at home.

Let's start with "Dad at Play."

This past week I was talking with my brother, Ken about speaking. I shared a thought I had at watched my brother have an 'a-ha' moment. Let's see if you guys will have the same. What vehicles did my dad drive? Now to be clear, I'm not talking about the cars he bought for my mother. What vehicles did my dad buy for himself? Was it sports cars? Muscle cars? My father would always drive station wagons, minivans, full-sized vans. He even drove a small truck once. Now I ask, why is this?

Let me share a few experiences and you can decide for yourself. My father loved going to ball games. Most of the times however, this was not a simple affair. Oh no, it was a complicated, strategic maneuvering to get as many seats as possible, to invite as many people as possible. My father was surrounded by friends and for good reason. If anyone needed help, my father would show up like a knight in shining armor. Only his horse can seat seven, store all our gear and still have room to spare.

Next, let's talk about "Dad at Work."

My father was always watching out for us boys. I had a unique experience that my brothers didn't really get to experience. I got to work with my dad. My father would always watch for State jobs that might work for us. Well, about three years ago I was in an extremely hostile work environment and was ready to get out! I am sure our Father above had a hand in this, for just as I couldn't take anymore, a State position opened up on my dad's floor and I got the job. We were on separate teams. My father was Data Security, I was Development. However, I got to see him in his workplace on a daily basis. See him interact with the people there. One of the biggest blessings though, would be the many lunches we shared.

Up to this point, one might argue that my dad was only helping loved ones. This is not so. On one of our many lunch excursions we decided to go to Burger King. It's no longer there now, but this particular Burger King was a regular gathering point for various transients. We had just finished our food and I was heading to the door when I noticed my dad wasn't behind me. I found him at the cashier ordering another Whopper. I watched in amazement as my dad walked over to a particularly depressed looking, homeless man and hand him the Whopper. My dad said, "I thought you might need this." I will never forget the grateful look that came across this man's face as he replied with a, "God bless."

I saved the best section for last, "Dad at Home."

I was blessed - or cursed, depending on how you look at it, to be the baby in my family. Being the youngest, I got to watch as my brothers entered the dating ages. My brothers brought many different girls to visit, usually for dinner and games. My father would go out of his way to make those girls feel especially welcome in our home. This did not change when I entered the dating game. While I did not date nearly as many girls as my brothers, the girls I did bring home were daughters the moment thy walked through the door, perhaps before...My parents would joke, half seriously I'm sure, that should anything happen between my wife and I; they would disown me and keep my wife.

It's doubtful this will happen, you see. We learned how to treat our wives by watching the way our father treated our mother. He never forgot a special event. In fact, he would call me up and ask if I had gotten something for my wife yet, because he found a great gift for my mom and thought my wife would like one as well. My father would proudly wear shirts my mother made for him. The instant my dad discovered he had upset my mother, he would be by her side to make things right. My dad always called my mother, 'The Boss', but I know he really meant, 'My Angel'.

My father valued love, respect and service. Not just in word, but in deed. I hope and pray that someday, I will be half the man that he was. I miss you Dad, until we meet again."

I was absolutely floored with what each of the boys wrote. They all had some fun stories of things that happened before my time that I found hilarious, but it was totally the man I knew and loved. It was nice to hear those stories.

After the funeral we walked out of the building to head to the cars. A few people had to take potty breaks and Eric ran back into the church to get the kids coats. While there was a limo, we figured it was just for Eric's mom and brother to ride in. Turns out, Eric missed a call from his brother and we should've ridden with the family. At least Eric should've. Anyway we get loaded in the car and head to the cemetery. We get parked and start walking to the plot when it hits Eric that he's supposed to be helping carry the coffin. I really felt bad when I realized this fact as well and that they were all waiting for him. He should've gone in the limo with his mom and brothers and I could've taken the kids over.

Anyway, the internment proceeds and I could not control my emotions at all. Because my father in law served in the Air Force, my mother in law was presented with a flag and that's really where I lost it. It was over before I knew it and I had a few strangers consoling me and a few family members. I gained so much more respect and admiration for my mother in law though. While I couldn't keep myself from crying like a baby, she composed herself wonderfully. She is truly a strong woman and I would love to be like her someday.

There were a few people who wanted pictures and it took a few minutes before I realized they wanted some family ones. After the pictures were over and everyone started heading back to the church, I took a walk over to my grandpa and cousins gravesites. (I can't remember if I mentioned it before but, Eric's dad is buried just a few feet from my grandpa and cousin). I was kind of glad to see that someone got a picture:

We headed back to the church for the luncheon. I found my mom and sister and thanked them for watching Jace. I was so full of emotion, I broke down once again. I wondered why I had ever put makeup on cause I knew I'd end up like this at the end of the day.

My sister snapped these pics on her phone while watching Jace.

My mom once again took the kids to her house for a bit so Eric and I could stay until things were over. At the end of the luncheon Eric's cousin gave me the 'award' for the biggest crier, I blamed it on post baby hormones, but still got a good laugh from it.

From the luncheon, we went and got the kids from my mom and went back to Eric's moms. A few minutes after we got there, everyone wanted to go see the burial plot now that Dad was buried. I was tired of running around and stressed about getting the kids back in the car while everyone waited, so I literally broke down. I told Eric he needed to go with the rest of his family, but once again, he decided he needed to stay with me. (I really am lucky to have him.)

When the rest of the family returned we visited for awhile and had a good visit. We headed home that night and tried to get back to some kind of normal.

There were so many pictures I wanted to share and even after cutting down, I still had close to 50. So I decided to just do a quick video. I've always felt weird at the thought of taking pictures at a funeral and worried it was a social faux pas, so I didn't take any. Not that I could've anyway. But I am so glad others took these photos. Photo credits go to Eric's sister in law, an aunt, a couple uncles and a family friend.