I was raised a Presbyterian, unlikely to talk about Jesus but full of the spirit nonetheless since I was a child. I remember my grandfather Ben Johnson behind his house on Barrett Avenue, planting and tending his Dahlias, which grew broad as his hands, yellow as the sun. When I drive by that house now–and I do, daily–I imagine him there, leaning forward amidst those flowers. Somehow in my mind, Ben’s yellow Dahlias, gardens and God are all connected.

On Thursday last, we put to rest our first cousin Nancy here at the Lakeview Cemetery. Nancy was 82, so we can’t mourn her passing too much. She had a good life although she endured her sorrows as do we all. Nancy’s smile was broad and generous as her laughter. At gravesite, our Johnson relatives gathered together. Some of us had not seen one another in years, in decades. We knew each other on sight though. Nancy’s children Jon and Cindy were there from Arizona as was her son Sean and his little girl. They had flown in to bury Nancy here in her hometown.

Cousin Larry officiated, as he has done for so many of our loved ones through the years. Larry is tall and straight, slim and elegant in his way, much like our grandfather Ben. Larry led us in prayer and in song. He played an interesting version of “How Great Thou Art,” sung by Elvis Presley. Larry reminded us Nancy had loved Engelbert Humperdinck and Tom Jones, but neither had recorded “How Great Thou Art.” It made us all smile. We stood there in the sunshine a few rows away from many of our Johnson relatives.

Our aunts and uncles and grandparents rest there. My father is just across the way. Aunts and great aunts, uncles and great uncles lie there on the same ridge of Chautauqua earth. The sun shone down upon us. It called up a Bible verse. “The Lord make his face shine upon thee and be gracious unto thee. The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.”

It was a fine fall day, the air clear and warm, the sun brilliant. A Monarch butterfly landed on the primary wreath of flowers and remained there throughout the ceremony. The light warmed us as did the fellowship. One thinks of a loved one’s passing as sad, and of course, it is sad for those of us remaining. But at the same time, and as cousin Larry emphasized, it is a time for celebrating a loved one’s life. More than that, it is a time for celebrating life, for reminding ourselves we are here now but for a short time.

It was a good day–shiny and bright, the scent of damp leaves and autumn in the air — to be sent off to heaven by one’s family. Afterwards, we laughed and smiled and hugged each other and went our separate ways in the world. Maybe some of us will never meet again. For that hour we were there together, family, showing our love despite miles and years. That’s what family is, isn’t it? It’s that holy spot in our hearts, the garden from which all else grows.