(Random notes on the funeral of Glenn D. McKeever, held Sunday, February 9, 2014.)
This weekend was one none of us will ever forget.
It was painful, tearful, memorable, sweet, blessed, and heart-rending.
We buried my big brother Glenn Sunday afternoon at 2 pm, across the road from the family church just outside Nauvoo, Alabama. He was laid to rest a few feet from our parents and not far from our youngest brother Charlie, who died 8 years ago.
In many respects, it was a typical funeral, I suppose.Our oldest brother Ron, one year Glenn’s senior, and I worked with home church pastor Mickey Crane who also sang two hymns. It was similar to hundreds of funerals the three of us have conducted over the 150 years combined we have logged in ministry. Except this time it was personal.
Glenn had had angioplasty last week, and in our judgment (as well as the coroner and medical examiner, too, as I got it), the hospital sent him home too quickly. He came home on Thursday and died of a blood clot the same evening. We have given him back to the Lord, and Glenn was ready, so we’re mostly okay on this. He had suffered so much the past few years.
He suffers no more.
We are the ones who suffer. Our hearts are aching and the tears will not stop flowing.