If you want to lift the mood, bring a baby to a funeral

Our close friend Corning died this past week. He had been in the hospital for a while, but I think we all kind of thought he'd get through it and go back to being the same old Corning, strolling around town, napping in every antique store, and greeting every dog by name throughout the town. But, it didn't work out that way.

The wake was Friday night and the funeral was yesterday at the church Corning's uncles founded around 100 years ago. We knew we'd bring Hayden with us to both the wake and the funeral. Corning loved her, and he'd want her energy there (especially since we're good about taking her out of situations when she does fuss or cry). At the wake, she entertained the troops with her gummy smiles, and she was a nice distraction from the heavy sadness of the occasion.

The funeral yesterday was held at a gorgeous church in Lynn, MA, almost a mini-cathedral. It was probably Corning's favorite place in the world, aside from his bench by the water in Marblehead. The service was beautiful. Corning's submarine buddies lined the walk outside, and the place was full, which is a real testament to the effect Corning had on the people around him. A soloist sang, and Hayden stared at the stained glass windows and craned her head to see the singer. I broke down at one point, and she looked over at me with such old soul eyes, it was as if she just got it on some profound level. By the end of the service Hayden had fallen asleep listening to the people talking about Corning and singing songs in his memory.

We all went to the cemetery after the service, and people stopped on the street to watch the procession; there were at least thirty cars following the hearse. It was pouring, so we covered Hayden with blankets and an umbrella, and she chewed on my watch while we stood for the service. The Navy played taps and presented the flag to his sister, and the Masons crept in, as is their custom apparently, and they gave a short presentation before disappearing away into the mist.

It was probably the hardest goodbye I've had to say, since Corning was the closest thing I really had to a grandfather; but I feel blessed to have had him in my life. He gave Hayden a very old book of children's stories shortly before he died, and I'll be sure to tell her where they came from, and she'll hear Corning Stories through the years. I just wish she could have known him longer. He was one of the most caring, genuinely good people I've ever known. He will be missed.