Final Hymn

Final Hymn

Noel Laflin

4-16-16

I attended the memorial service for an old family friend this morning.

Pete died just one day shy of his 90^th birthday.  But as his daughters thoughtfully remarked upon his passing, had it not been a leap year he would have officially been a nonagenarian.

The service was held at a Methodist church in Anaheim – a part of town that was my old stomping grounds growing up.  In fact, my old church, the one I attended until I was seventeen, is right down the street.   It was comforting to go back to this era of nostalgia.

As it tends to happen at such gatherings, I met up with friends that I have known nearly my entire life – a taste of ‘Our Town’ – only for real.

And then the minister spoke both warmly and sincerely.

Susan, the youngest daughter, wrote and delivered an amazing remembrance for her father.

Her mother graciously – and with great dignity – publically thanked the congregants for attending.

There was punch and cookies afterward.

And the choir sang in perfect harmony.

I could not help but reflect on that choir, as it got me to thinking about my own mortality.

For although I have made it plain that when my time in my imaginary Grover’s Corner of a life is up, I do not wish to have a church service, nor a minister present, as there is no minister who could speak knowingly of me.

However, I wouldn’t mind that choir sending me off.  They were that good.

And of course, if you know your Thornton Wilder, the song would have to be, ‘Blest Be the Tie That Binds.’

I see that it’s listed as hymn number 557 in the official Methodist hymnal.

And although I can't ever recall having sung this fine old tune in our church, this former, fallen altar boy wouldn’t mind it in the least.