The usually quiet multipurpose room was as full as if it were Bingo night. Elderly residents sat in chairs and wheelchairs. A cluster of walkers were parked by the door. A table at the front of the room contained 31 candles, representing the 31 souls who were being remembered.
The resident minister led the service, which contained both scriptural and secular readings and hymns, including Shall We Gather at the River:
Soon we’ll reach the shining river,
Soon our pilgrimage will cease,
Soon our happy hearts will quiver
With the melody of peace.
I was a little surprised by the turnout. I know my Dad made lots of friends there, but so many had passed before him. Dad’s companion of the last few years of his life, now 90 years old herself, sat in the front row. I recognized a few faces that I had met over the years, but most were strangers. Is life in an old folk’s home similar to the dorm life we enjoyed in college? Close proximity and a common goal fueled fast and lasting bonds as we were just really starting our lives. Maybe the same holds true in an elderly community. Maybe it was just the result of the common bond of being near the end. Maybe it was simply morbid curiosity. Dad often referred to the place as God’s Waiting Room. As I looked around the room, I thought some of these folks will no doubt be remembered next year, or the year after.
The service ended with a surprisingly lively rendition of I’ll Fy Away.
Just a few more weary days and then,
I’ll fly away;
To a land where joy shall never end,
I’ll fly away.