To remember, to celebrate, to say good-bye

Though I had traveled to Iowa over the summer in order to be with my grandfather while he was still here [with the thought that I might not be able to then go again for his funeral], when I found out that members of my immediate family were driving cross country to be with our extended family for the funeral, I knew there was no other place for me to be than with them.  Hence, late on Monday evening, my parents and brothers converged at my house for a brief rest, my brothers camped out on the couches, and my parents tucked away in the basement.  The next morning we got up early, and Operation Drive Straight Through to Iowa commenced.

 We spent our 19 hours talking, playing games, reading, [in my case] doing a little work, cozy within the confines of the Kooistra mini-van.  [It has been 10 years since last we were all within those confines, just we 5...] We arrived at the house of our hosts late in the night, and sent ourselves straight to bed.

The next morning we awoke, got ready, and went out to the car to find these guys hanging out nearby.  Then, we climbed in and went to the funeral home, for our first meeting with the family, and for the private viewing.  We hugged, we cried. We sat there together, and shared stories.  We remembered the ways he loved us, and how we loved him.  And we reminded ourselves of the legacy he had left us.

The rest of the day was spent being together,
getting re-acquainted,

eating the food generously provided for us, playing games, and making final preparations for the funeral.

When the public viewing occurred at night, we watched as people streamed in to visit us, to tell us how much he meant to them, to share their own stories.  We listened, and we were grateful.

The next morning found us back at the church for the funeral.  We shared and listened to more stories.   We were reminded of God's great heart for us in our time of sorrow.  We reflected on the life our patriarch had lived, and celebrated it,

in word and in song.

And then we escorted his body to the place where it will rest,

and then returned to the church,

to share in a meal, and to establish that though we will miss him, we will move forward.

It's difficult to describe the feeling in that room, the love, the support, the peace, so let me see if this will do:

Even after the food was cleared away, we stayed there,
to dwell in the comfort of it.

And then, as the crowd thinned out,
we stayed there more, grateful for the rest.

Eventually, we rearranged ourselves,
only the close family groups remaining.

And later on,

 we gathered into games,

 and comfy clothes.

We took joy in just being us, a little longer.

 We closed out the night with pizza, 

and then began to say good-bye.

Some of us found our way over to Grandma's for a bit more visiting, before the final good-byes were made. We hugged, we smiled.  We were glad for these moments, the time to be.

The next morning the boys, my mother and I got back into that mini-van, leaving our father behind to help with the things that needed taking care of.

We began the long journey,

 stopping along the way at the antique place
belonging to the show 'American Pickers',

which made Keith happy in his heart. 

 We played more games [which also makes our Keith happy],

we stopped for [surprisingly really good!!] fast food.

We arrived at my house late and exhausted, ready for a nap, until a few hours later when our own good-byes were said.

And when all was said and done, we were grateful for the trip;

to remember, to celebrate, to say good-bye.