In many ways, it was the hardest day of my life.
In other ways, it was most blessed. If only you could have seen how full the church was that day at her funeral, to hear my family and our Church singing of God's promise and Hope in the life she lived, the life we have left to live before we see her again. To be there with family and friends (and in-laws!) who traveled so far to join us in celebrating Momma's life--what a joy to have such a community. This is what Christians do for each other.
Today, I remember that funeral, that Mass of Resurrection, where there is no black and no call to wail and gnash teeth. There, it was light and gladness and hope for New Life. The whole liturgy cried out in fervent longing for the day we would see her again, trusting that it will be so. "Stand up, now! Walk, and Live!" we sang. It's a brand new day. Everything is fine.
I remember the what I wore (even the earrings), and Father Paul's homily (which I invite you to read again). I remember a reception full of smiles and laughter and small children playing together.
I remember the after-party, full of family (yep, and those wonderful in-laws!) and close friends and more babies. There was so much life to celebrate that day. So much joy. Such hope.
At the end of my life, if they can say what we heard about Momma at her funeral, I will be satisfied.