This one written from sister Ann's condo near LAX airport.
Got in yesterday afternoon fearing the record 100º temperatures I'd been reading about, but missed it obviously. It's been fine. Even this morning at the Forest Lawn-Hollywood Hills cemetery for Dad's 1-year memorial, it was cool and cloudy.
It must seem a bit risky, I realize, flying back to LA for a weekend in the middle of the final PhD push, but family business outweighs such risks. I flew back last August for Mom's 1-year memorial and would do the same for Dad. They're buried next to each other in the same cemetery here in LA near all the TV and media offices in Burbank. It's in a back corner in the hills, however, so you can barely see a single sign of the city in 360º, just mountains and green cemetery lawns.
Ann and I, Dad's cousin Lois and her husband Walt, and Pastor Bill Antablin and wife Florence met at the cemetery gate around 10:00 this morning and drove in together to the site. The best surprise of the day was to find that the Veterans Administration had managed to get Dad's tablet made and installed in time for the one-year remembrance. A bit of a long story, but we had ordered it back in October knowing that it usually took 6 months. When we checked with the cemetery this February, however, we were crushed to learn that they had sat on all the paperwork because of some missing form - but hadn't bothered to contact us. That meant the earliest the VA could get it now was in August! But by some divine intervention, the order was placed and acted on twice as fast as usual, and there it was for us today:
Ernest Arthur Sundberg
Capt. US Army
WW II
Apr 13 1922 - Apr 29 2003
Faithful father and husband
Yellow roses are the family funeral tradition by now, but we couldn't find any in decent shape yesterday at the supermarket, so Ann got a nice purple and gold bouquet - close to the UCLA colors. Bill started by reading out of the Presbyterian service book. Lois read Psalm 103 "As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on all who fear him, for he knows how we were made, he knows full well that we are dust ..." Each then spoke some word of remembrance - an anecdote, word of appreciation. They we ended singing just the chorus of "How Great Thou Art" - an old Swedish hymn that Dad had requested for his funeral: "Then sings my soul, my Savior God, to thee: how great thou art ..."
Ann and I had debated between "faithful father" and "beloved father" on his tablet and settled on "faithful" as the greater compliment, because most dear departed are "beloved" by those they leave behind; that is almost assumed. But "faithful" is a descriptor that has to be earned over a lifetime. He was true to his commitment both to Mom and us kids his whole life, an increasingly rare commodity these days. And his last 10 years, he prepared carefully to leave us well-cared for after he was gone. "Great is Thy Faithfulness" was also Mom's favorite hymn, quoted on her tablet. So the word "faithful" ties the two together.
I'll be here through Monday, when I fly back to Illinois and get crackin' on the dissertation once again. Saturday, I drive up (alone) to Santa Barbara to see some close friends who saw us through the hard days when he was weak and weakening last April. Then, my self-imposed year of mourning will be over.
I'm glad I came.
