I went to the funeral today.
I almost chickened out at the last minute, but I felt as though I needed to see this thing through to the end.
I'm glad I did.
I discovered Charles was a 66-year-old veteran of the Korean war, well-loved by his family and known for being a straight-shooter with a quick wit and a firm belief in God. I spoke with several members of his immediate family, who told me they had been shocked by his passing, as he had not suffered of any health problems that they were aware of.
My heart broke for his daughter, who was pretty tore up over his death. She told me that she had been so upset, thinking about him dying alone. It came as a great comfort to her to know that had not been the case.
As she sat there, sobbing into my shoulder as she hugged me, I knew I had done the right thing by going to the service. Somehow, if only for a moment, it was as though I were able to serve as a bridge between this life and the next, allowing the lady an ounce of the comfort only a girl's daddy can really give.
I'm humbled that God would leave that task to me and thankful that He did.