Today...

For most of you, today was like any other Friday. You went about your day looking forward to the weekend and maybe made some weekend plans. Perhaps you were annoyed by the cold weather or the late-April snow. Maybe the only shake-up to your routine was that you watched part of the Royal Wedding and all it's festivities.

I attended the funeral for my Uncle David. I saw cousins I'm close to and cousins I haven't seen for years. I met relatives I've never known who live in the same town as me. I listened to beautiful music and heart-stirring words. I tried to comfort some of them and some of them tried to comfort me. I hugged more people than I can count and some of them I hugged more than once.

I heard of the love that nine children have for their dad, my dad shared stories of Uncle David's life, and many mentioned the love that Uncle David had for his wife, Louise. We sang a song that had given Uncle David peace during the last months of his life and listened to a recording of him singing a song he wrote 35 years ago for a family reunion. It was called "Through the Eyes of a Child." His voice was clear and young and beautiful and it felt like he was there with us.

We went to a lovely cemetery, high on the hill. We snuggled together and shared coats and blankets to protect us from the biting wind and every few minutes the shy sunshine would tiptoe out and warm our shoulders for a few happy moments. We sang songs together including "God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again."

A sweet Relief Society provided delicious food for at least 200 members of Uncle David's family, restocked the food table with pan after pan of funeral potatoes, bowl after bowl of salad and plate after plate of cake--all provided with a smile.

It was the kind of day that you both dread and cherish.

Funerals often inspire soul-searching and this one was no exception. I began to ask myself some hard questions. When I die will my husband and children remember my love as sure and patient and unshakable? Have I been the kind of sister that when I'm gone my siblings will ache because they can't imagine life without me? Will friends remember me as a person who loves and serves unselfishly? Will those who knew me miss my sense of humor, my unselfishness and my unwavering faith?

I fear that the answers to some of these questions might disappoint me. But lucky for me, I'm still alive and I still have a chance to try become the kind of person that prompts all those sweet memories and feelings.

Today was a tragically sad day, but it was also a monumentally happy day. My uncle's body rests peacefully on that beautiful hill. But only for awhile.

But his legacy lives through his children and his grandchildren and his memory lives on in the hearts and minds of all of us fortunate enough to have known and loved him.