This is my first time to actually write this out however I have told what happened at my Grandpa's funeral to other family members. It's not spectacular or even scary, but it is genuine.
My paternal Grandpa died when I was 14 years old after a 2 year battle with cancer. When he finally passed there was a large part of me that was thankful he was no longer in such excruciating pain but I was devastated nonetheless. My Grandpa had remarried when I was around 10 or 11 years old and I really wasn't that keen on his new wife as she would not let me call her Grandma. Even then I knew instinctively she really didn't care for my Grandpa's adult children and, of course, grandchildren. I tell you this so you will understand what happens at the funeral.
My family (Mom, Dad and younger brother) and I drove the 3 hours to the funeral home where my Grandpa's widow said his service would be at. When we got there, we discovered that there wasn't a proper service just a viewing. We were in shock! My Grandpa was a rancher and my family has lived on that land since Texas was a Spanish colony. Grandpa had lots of friends and had known the neighbors (closest one was 2.5 miles away) his whole life. It didn't make sense for there not to be a service. How can you not have an Eulogy? Wake? Something?
The helpful employee instead showed us a room, which was actually quite nice, where we could view the body. We follow him and as we enter we expected to see Grandpa's widow. Nope! Not a soul there. Not even flowers, except the ones we brought. It was heartbreaking to see my beloved Grandpa so abandoned on his big sendoff to the other side.
Well, we decided to have our own service. My father led the service. We started off by taking turns standing at the casket and putting in our mementos we had brought, saying a prayer and reading a verse from the Bible. Then my father talked about all the things he loved about his father. The things he wished he had more time to do with his father. The things he regretted with his father. While my father was speaking the floor lamp near the head of the coffin started flickering. We didn't pay much mind to it, figured the bulb was about to go out or something. Besides, there were overhead lights in the room. Next was my mother's turn and again while she was talking about all the things she remembered and loved the most about Grandpa the floor lamp flickered. We all stopped and turned to look at it then to look at one another like, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
My turn was next. It was really hard for me to even speak. My Grandpa and I were two peas in a pod. We adored one another. When I was finally able to speak, I told of the time my Grandfather stopped everything and came and got me from a friend's house at the drop of a hat. (Background: we moved from Houston to Dallas in Feb. 1986. During summer break I went to visit with my best friend in Houston for 2 weeks, but after 1 week I was ready to go home, homesick...) My parents couldn't take off to do it and they just said to have fun and we'll be there next weekend. Well, I was so homesick I called Grandpa and he came from Bryan to Houston to get me then back to Dallas to take me home, all in one day.) During my story that lamp went nuts. To the point my mother got up and tried to turn the lamp off. I tell you, that lamp was not having it. It would not turn off but since it had stopped flickering, Mom quit fiddling with it.
My brother was next and again the lamp starts flickering. At this point my Dad says I think that's Grandpa and he's trying to let us know how much he's loving hearing all the wonderful things we were saying about him. We all agreed.
So we conclude that part of very special service we were doing for him and thought perhaps we should hang out there until his wife got there. She never showed and after an hour more, we left. The lamp did not flicker one time while we were making small talk waiting for Grandpa's widow.