Yesterday, I had the privilege of officiating the chapel and graveside services for a burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Our family laid to rest the remains of my mother-in-law, Frances Dodd, nearly two years to the day after she died. Covid and some missteps on the part of the Arlington staff led to the long delay but, finally, twenty-three family members gathered on a cold, cloudy, windy morning to inter her ashes at her husband’s grave.
Her husband, John Dodd, died in 2004. When we buried him it was in a relatively newer part of the cemetery and we were struck by how barren it appeared. In the intervening years, trees have grown and, of course, more veterans and their spouses were buried. In the understatement of the new year, time moves on.
When we arrived at the Old Post Chapel on Fort Myer, I met with the chaplain assistants and the cemetery representative to review the logistics for the services, particularly the ceremonial parts of each. As we discussed these solemn matters in the foyer and then in a private gathering room, I was struck by the sounds of laughter and the squeals of the children coming from the sanctuary. We had nine kids under the age of fourteen with five under the age of four. There was definitely squealing and chasing going on. But what beautiful sounds in such a setting! Fran would have loved seeing the kids run around, would have joined in the laughter, and would have found joy at her funeral.
Two years may dull the edge of grief, but the service brought fresh grief. We have become accustomed to the world without Fran, but that does not mean her loss was felt any less keenly yesterday. We finished the chapel service and proceeded to the graveside. There the family gathered under and around a tent while I led a short committal service. “Short” is the order of the day at our national cemeteries as they conduct so many funerals each day they run on a tight schedule. After I shared a few thoughts we sang the four verses of Amazing Grace. As I mentioned, it was a cloudy day. As we sang the words, “When we’ve been there ten thousand years bright shining as the sun,” the sun broke through the clouds behind me and bathed everyone in its light.
Due to heavy rain the night before and very wet ground, the service was held curbside, however, we all wanted to walk up to the grave site. My daughter, Callie, captured this photo as we proceeded up the hill. It’s a beautiful picture and to me it symbolizes what I was trying to express in some of my remarks: those who believe in Christ, like Fran, who have claimed His mercy and grace, are journeying to a brighter, better place. And the platitude, “she’s in a better place now” does not begin to capture the life she is leading and the absolute joy she is experiencing. I am grateful for the moment the sun broke through and I am grateful for this photograph. It reminded me that my words really did not matter, God is in control and God provides the peace and comfort we need.
We reconvened at a DC restaurant and spent a couple of hours catching up, reminiscing, laughing, and, of course, eating. It was the perfect way to end a morning that celebrated our mother, mother-in-law, granny, and Gigi (great-granny). We are slowly going our separate ways with some having left yesterday and others today. We will return to Florida, Louisiana, South Carolina, and central Virginia and carry with us the finality of these moments but also the joy of family and memories of a life well-lived. And we will carry with us the knowledge that one day we will live out the final words of that beautiful hymn, “… we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.”
