I have so many emotions going through me right now.
The last time I had been to a funeral at that specific church was for my childhood best friend's sister's funeral, who also died of cancer...the last time I had been to any funeral was my grandpa's, 10 years ago...the last time I had stepped into any church building for any reason has been a number of years, too...although I still meet with other Believers.
Anne was a pilot. My hubby is a pilot, too. For some reason any of the aviation-related stuff (pictures, stories, etc) really got to me. And guess who forgot to bring Kleenex! During PMS yet, too!
When we were out in the church graveyard after the service, I heard a plane coming. I looked up and they had 2 planes come over, circle once, then come over again and do the missing man formation, where one plane splits off. I hadn't cried much before, but that one got me. That formation always gets me whenever I see it.
Gave my friend a few big hugs. She's so special. Her and her siblings were so brave to go up front during the service and share their memories of Anne.
I ended up not staying for the reception. Ended up talking to a few pilots outside and then headed home.
Here is a poem that means a lot to aviators. You can read the history of it here.
"High Flight"
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
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