Phyllis' older brother Nathan passed away last week, he was buried on the 8th. I feel it important to write down some of my impressions of the funeral that was held earlier that day. Like nearly all things associated with Nathan, it was not normal.
First, an introduction to Nathan for those who never met him. You would remember if you had. The best description that I could give would be to imagine a rotund, fairly imposing 40 year old man with the mind of an eight year old. You knew that you were welcome in the Loertscher home if he would come up behind you and yell BOO!! It didn't take long. He pretty much welcomed everyone. Because he had a fairly severe hearing impairment he often wore headphones with the volume turned up loud enough to hear whatever he was listening to from an adjacent room. He took walks everywhere. Never rode a bike or scooter or any other means of transport that was offered him. He just walked around and most people in the neighborhood, no, most people that lived in the town had probably seen him at one time or another. So this is Nathan, the man/child that couldn't read or write much better than a 2nd grader or drive a car and yet he played chess well enough to normally beat his siblings.
The funeral was very loosely structured. There would be several musical numbers and in between each, as one felt the urge, family was encouraged to share their feelings about Nathan. Each of Nathan's brothers and sisters spoke. I will summarize their remarks, in no particular order. Forgive me if my memory is faulty.
Landon: The oldest son of the Loertscher clan, Landon recollected Nathan's fondness for outer space. Nathan seemed to live in part of his life as though he were on a distant planet. In his life, he was continuously fascinated by the cosmos, indeed it largely expressed his dreams and desires. Imagine Nathan now, no longer encumbered by this Earth with its' limitations, exploring space. "Probably found that black hole he was always talking about," Noal interjected and the room bubbled with soft laughter. Only at this funeral would that seem a natural thing. Landon confessed to taking Nathan's telescope and hoped that Nathan would forgive him for that.
Dion: Next to the casket was a painting of Christ's appearance to Mary after his crucifixion. "He is not here," Dion began. Nathan's imperfect body lay before us now, an empty shell. His soul has long since departed and surely is present with us today. Dion reflected that in this life we see so imperfectly. The veil casts a haze over our vision, we see through a glass darkly, as it were. Perhaps it was Nathan, the adult child, who saw in this life a little clearer through that other side.
Mark: Because of his proximity to Nathan during the latter years as his health failed, Mark was often responsible for much of the physical care of Nathan. This was not a chore. He bathed him, just as he would one of his own children. He learned and was blessed with this opportunity to serve his brother. This was Nathan's gift to all of us. He taught us to love and to serve.
Rebecca: As the youngest, the baby of the family, Rebecca came to be close to her brother when she was in middle school and all the older siblings had left home. For so many years it was just her and Nathan, and when the time came to leave, she couldn't help feeling a little guilty for leaving Nathan behind. It was their time together and it wasn't long enough.
Phyllis: A remembrance of Nathan would be incomplete without remembering the stories about him. Phyllis shared a letter from her friend sharing some of these stories. I think using the letter for structure allowed Phyllis to share these stories without breaking down in tears. Nathan deserves to have his stories told. His headbands and imposing first impression, followed by the softening of the heart for those who looked past the impression. Each of us has a story that we remember about Nathan. Phyllis told her brother how much she loved him and would miss him. She placed a chess piece (the king) in the coffin. It is still there. It will always be there.
Noal: Nathan had a hard life. Ostracized, teased. I can only imagine what that would have been like for him growing up, knowing how cruel children can be. He really didn't have friends outside the family. Never kissed a girl. His was a lonely life. Noal, being closer in age to Nathan, had a close range vision of these disappointments and frustrations. He vowed he would not treat others in this way. He has taught his family, his children, to never do the same. Noal shared a lot of scriptures and his faith that the promises for his brother's eternal life were real and true. A hundred years from now, how much of these frustrations would Nathan feel? A thousand years from now? A million? All this pain would be just a flash, a blur, in the rolling eternities.
Darin: About midway through the service, as a soloist was preparing to sing, I see Darin slowly begin to stand, take a slow, half step forward and then exclaim (and I mean loud!), "BOO! HA! I GOTCHA!" The whole congregation erupted in laughter. This was Nathan in it's purity. The man/child who enjoyed bringing joy to people. Later, my son David remarked that it even sounded like Nathan. I thought the same. Like I said, it was not a normal funeral.
I must say that it was a perfect service and to have missed any of these perspectives would have made for an incomplete service and an incomplete remembrance of Nathan. I was impressed that the entire service was not coordinated or planned in this way. It just happened this way and there was really no other way that it should have been. No other speakers were needed. No religious authority to pronounce anything that hadn't already been said.
So he is gone now. In their home, there are no longer the echos of Boo, or the theme song to Sailor Moon, or Star Trek, Star Wars, The Black Hole, etc. from the television turned up to full volume. There is only silence. The absence is palpable.
For myself I can only say that Nathan taught me to really be humble about who you think you are and what you think defines you. Our Father's works are strange and His intent sometimes seems inscrutable. We have this precious gift of the present; our relationships with our families and those we come in contact with. The things that we usually think matter, really don't. Nathan taught me that.
