

When my dad died we allowed to children to decide what they wanted to leave with him. One small grandchild decided to give his favorite milk mug. Another one saved his brownie from lunch and pressed it into Grandpa's hand. My niece wrote a poem and read it at the funeral. My oldest nephew played "Taps" while the Air Force detail fired a 21-gun salute. One of my own children had a small statue of Jesus and laid it in the coffin with him. All these things touched me more than I can say. I don't even remember what the flowers looked like, but I remember these small tokens from the children.
