I wish taking constant pictures between sobs was acceptable during a funeral. I wish I could've captured the generous audience that gathered to mourn Grandpa's passing and celebrate the extraordinary life that he led.
I didn't take pictures but a handful of memories are very clear and present in my mind. One being the the granddaughters gathered in a circle, heads bent, hands clasped as we prayed before walking the casket up the aisle to begin the funeral. Tears were present in all our eyes, but the grip on each other was held strong. It was a circle of beautiful, strong women, a circle that Grandma and Grandpa were proud of and I know they looked down on us from heaven.
There was this bond between them, a bond that my words could never completely convery. They were meant for each other, in the true essence of the words. They were the a couple that I grew up admiring and smiling at. He was the ying to her yang, the peanut butter to her jelly, the match that was truly made in heaven.
I remember their morning routine, observed many times while visiting them in Florida. They made the bed together, they read the paper together, talked to each other, paid bills together, they had a this connection that seriously worked on many levels. There was an openness and comfortableness between them that I had the pleasure of seeing. Not only did I see this in them, but I have always known my parents marriage was closely modeled after that. Affection was not saved for rare occasions, it was spread freely in frequent hugs and kisses, and subtly seen in the holding of hands, arms around each other and intimate glaces during mundane tasks. They were a beautiful couple that has been eternally reunited in Heaven.
Back to the funeral... Tom and I were able to grieve and let the tears flow freely, as the children were not around. They were cared for at my aunt's house by a local babysitter. This was a gift unto itself. They are wonderful children, but I would've had to hold back the emotion that was bubbling up inside, withstrain the sadness to spare their innocent eyes and naive hearts. They know he is gone, they cried their tears and we mourned at home telling many stories of happy times with him. This was my turn, my Mom's turn, my Aunt's turn to grieve and say goodbye, and that we did.
The Pastor's sermon was personal and heartfelt, touching on Grandpa's generous spirit and gracious life, while helping us mourn with purpose. As during my Grandma's funeral a poem was read by my Aunt Shawn and the other five, beautiful, strong, daughters gathered behind her, all holding hands. The pain was in their faces, the broken hearts could be seen from losing their remaining parent, but the strength and love that resonated from the six of them could be felt through the sanctuary. I have to include the poem:
Our Dad
When Charles Henry was born, our world was blessed,
As husband, Dad, Grandfather, and Great Grandfather - He was the best!
Gentle and kind, always quick to smile
With a sparkle in his eye, he always went the extra mile
Here we all gather, to give God thanks and praise
For Dads life here on Earth, even if we wanted more days.
But back to the beginning so we all may know
What his life was about, and how he did grow
Into some teen trouble he got, just a car he did borrow
Prompting military school with borrowing sorrow
After that off to War, to Army Intelligence he was promoted
When he finally came home, numerous medals were noted
Then U of D Mercy and Detroit College of Law
And joined the family business and took up a saw
Many homes they would build, C.W. Babcock and Sons
Detroit and Grosse Pointe Bungalows, they were number one!
And in 1957, he married his blind date
And not too soon after, it was a family of eight
Six girls in seven years, a son would never be,
But never a complaint would he say, just "thank God she's healthy!"
With pixie hair cuts, matching hats and gloves
White paten-leather purses, we were so very loved
All dressed alike, God's love he would show
Taking us weekly to Church, six little girls in a row!
Vacations to Florida, a Greyhound bus converted to camper
Whatever we needed, he made sure we were spoiled and pampered
When we wished for a farm, with six horses we could ride
He built us Pond 'a' Bush, with a huge barn and arena inside!
Like boys we were raised, working outdoors by his side
Manual labor no big deal, his work ethic taught with pride
Then to the teen years, sometimes not so much fun,
Keeping us all on a straight path, a new chapter had begun.
Six teenage girls - A challenge, monthly moods and Saturday nights
Yet my father prevailed - with wisdom and insight!
Dad the protector, watching out for our curfew
Should we miss or be late, he would find us we knew
Lessons he encouraged, from flying to scuba diving
Whatever we wanted, as long as we kept trying
As Youth Exchange students, he sent us overseas
A larger world to explore, experience and see
His love unconditional, no matter what mistakes we all made
But we still dreaded, and disappointment displayed
An Education is so important, he would always stress
Supporting his 6 girls to college and success
He also gave his grandchildren a change to attend college
A trust fund he created, so they could gain knowledge
Through six of everything - from driving permits to weddings
Always offering his guidance, his love kept spreading!
He taught us six girls, to stand strong but be kind
Always follow your heart....and what others think...never mind
Family time was important - love and laughter were key
He spoiled all of us, even to Alaska times three
From marriages to births, he was always there
To offer help and advice, looking out for our welfare
He showed us the importance of attitude, strong faith and giving
"Treat everyone with respect" - such a great example he was living
From "Up in the morning, out on the job" to "always do what's right"
To "knowledge is power"...too many Chuck-isms to recite
Happiness is a choice, he often said
Bad things will happen, but choose to wake up happy instead
He was an avid volunteer, too many organizations to name
Teaching by example, not words, his aim
Through the rest of our years, we will continue to grieve
But now he's with Christ, surrounded by love, we believe
We'll watch over each other Dad, our strong sister love
Remembering your example, and guidance from above
Dear Lord, thanks so much for giving us our Dad
For us, he was the best father anyone ever had
We must say Goodbye dad, thanks so much for sharing
Your love, your life, your lessons and caring
Into our heart, your memories will forever stay
And when we need guidance, we'll remember "Chuck's way"
Although we miss you so much Dad, the empty feeling so strong
Were glad you're with Mom in Heaven, that's just where you belong
By Charlene Irvin-Babcock McHugh
That poem captured my Grandfather and all the good that was him and the good he created!
During the sermon, I gripped Tom tightly and let myself cry. I was not the only one, as we all let it come out. Sometimes during the hymns my mind was left to wander and recall the many beautiful memories shared with Grandpa over the years. His stories always amazed me, his life was fascinating, his experiences grand. Even stories told again, captivated the listeners, which usually were many. The stories were awesome, but so was his affection and love that he was quick to show.
The funeral ended and 10 strapping young men wipe away tears and headed to the casket. All looking so handsome, somber, and sad, they pushed him up the aisle and gathered in the back. The six girls followed closely behind, all sobbing, and not ready for the final goodbye.
Much to my surprise our jackets were gathered and outside we proceeded. A gun salute was given, and with each trigger pull I knew the final goodbye was coming closer. I prayed and hugged those around me. Pride swelling in all of us for this wonderful man that I had the privilege of calling my Grandfather.
The casket was loaded in the hearse and slowly driven away. Tom and I somberly walked to our car and headed to pick up the children. I didn't think there were many tears left in me, but during the short drive they still flowed.
I dried my eyes and fixed my mascara, and picked up the foursome. We headed over to the luncheon at the The River Crab. The restaurant was filled, parking scarce as we all gathered to tell stories and enjoy each other's company during this sad time.
We said our goodbye's after hours of reminiscing, laughing, and shedding some more tears. The children walked around, admiring the beauty of the St. Clair River, as ice formations glazed the bank of the river. A few boats slowly sailed by, capturing the attention of the children, and adults. This beautiful River was their (my Grandparent's) river. It was their place of sanctuary. Their comfort, and it will always be the place I associate with them. The memories of their many houses scattered along the river over the years, one thing is always constant, the beauty of the fast flowing waters and the beauty of their love.
Goodbye Grandpa. Your body is no longer here, but your spirit lives on in all of us!
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