Life is a picture. Paint it well.

There have been many artists since the world was begun,

And many pictures on walls have been hung.

But there is one picture you don't hang on a wall,

It's the picture of life, and it's painted by all.

No two are the same. Some succeed and some fail.

So let your brush fill as it dips in the pail.

How will your picture be? I never could tell.
For your life is your picture. Do your best. Paint it well.

-William Perry Kassing

Today I attended the funeral of a wonderful, endearing, lovely man. He was the Bishop in the ward that I grew up in. He had amazing red hair - we all know I'm a sucker for a redhead - and a smile that would just light up a room. He was caring, considerate, warm, friendly, sincere, loving and just all around wonderful.

As I sat next to my mother and father listening to the service, I looked around and saw people that I had grown up with - they had changed, no doubt. They were older, married. Kids that I used to babysitt now had children of their own. I looked around in amazement at how this amazing man had brought all these people together one last time. We have all grown up and grown apart but we still shared one thing: our history.


:.

I have this really weird disease where I tend to make everything be all about me. Case in point:

Every funeral I attend reminds me of Nick's. Everything becomes fresh and rises to the surface. I usually don't cry at funerals because, let's face it. Any pain or sadness I feel now pales in comparison to the hurt that I felt all those years ago. My eyes will water and I will get that frog in my throat, but nothing even close to the wailing and sobbing of before.

I looked around and was just blown away to see all this familiar faces. These people knew me, or at least one prototype of me. They were characters from a chapter so far back in the book of my life, it felt like it wasn't even in the same library. These people all represented a time in my life that I didn't have any more. A time where everything was simple and easy. A time where life made sense. I had chores, rules, homework, and a curfew. A time that I had my Nick. It was comforting, familiar, and saddening all at once.

I remember when Nick passed, Bishop Kassing was such a tremendous comfort to my family and me. He would just wrap his giant arm around you and give you that amazing smile. During Nick's funeral he spoke, and told us all that God gave all his most special angels red hair so that he could keep better track of them from far away. As I studied the funeral program in my hand I thought back to that day and that comment. There was this amazing picture on the front of the program, of Perry and his wife smiling and looking at each other adoringly...and I literally felt my heart breaking.
I grew so incredibly jealous of Bishop Kassing for being able to be with Nick. I imagined them sitting in the "Red head VIP" section of heaven.

I giggled.

It felt good.

:.

Once the service and all the visiting, catching up, and hullabaloo that followed the funeral had concluded, I decided that today seemed as good a day as any to go visit my brother's resting place. I brought him a bunch of miniature pink roses, tied lovingly with a brown ribbon.

Pulling up to the cemetery always brings me to a quiet, reverent, reflective place. I turn the music down, roll down the windows, and just listen to the sound of eternal rest. After getting up the courage to exit my vehicle and walk over to his headstone, I knelt down in the warm grass and looked around. The birds atop the giant trees along the edge of the cemetery sang their happy little song. Even in a place as sad as this, the sound of birds chirping does wonders for the soul. The sun was smiling down on me, but I didn't have a smile for him in return.

The sod had been replaced atop Nick's burial plot. I could see the dirt brown seams between the dry yellowed grass. It gave the appearance of a fresh grave, which brought back memories of when it was still fresh. When all of this change was a fresh, open, throbbing wound- just as it is now for the Kassing family. I was so sad for Perry's family, knowing that they have to start a whole new chapter in their lives. One that doesn't included their father, grandfather, husband and friend. I was overwhelmed with emotions, and for the first time in a long time I could feel the tears form in my eyes thinking of someone elses' loss. I knew that we had all lost someone very special.

I wept.

It felt good.