I went to a funeral today. A funeral for Joe Lutz, a fifteen year old high school student in Hinton who was to be next year's co-Drum Major for the marching band.

When I wrote my entry on Sunday, I had forgotten a few things.

When I was a senior in high school, Joe's older brother Ryan played baritone in our marching band. So Joe, who was in sixth grade, always knew when the marching band was supposed to be at the field.

So every Friday night, Joe dutifully showed up at the same time as all of the high schoolers so that he could watch us practice before the games. After we were done with our pre-game rehearsal, Joe would walk up to anybody who would look at him and ask, "Can I help? Can I carry your case? What can I do?"

He was an eager guy. And because of that, he always got a great feeling of joy when he would get to carry fifteen instrument cases from the practice field to the bleachers. On more than one occasion he even carried the drum major stand for Josh Buxton and me. And it was always with a smile on his face. I'm sure he embarrased the tar out of Ryan, but I'm equally sure that this probably didn't bother him that much.

Joe was my brother Josh's best friend. They only started spending time with each other just before I left for college, so I never really got to see them interact. From what I'm told by my dad and Lorie, Joe's encouragement of Josh is part of what has given Josh the strength and confidence he needed to make it through his first year in a new school where he didn't have any friends. No small feat for a boy who was only fourteen at the time.

I thought I was going to be fine about all of this. I don't often wear my emotions on my sleeve.

When I went to the funeral today, which had to be in the school auditorium rather than the church (due to the large number of people who had come to remember Joe), I began to feel... shaky. Not nervous, just shaky. I looked onstage and saw that my dad was up there with Scott Hamilton (pastor of First Baptist Church of Hinton) and Dwayne Pate (youth minister). I hadn't known that dad was going to speak.

Several people got up to say things about Joe, and while that was hard for me, I never really got past that "welling up" feeling you get when your emotions start running on overdrive. It was when dad got up... oh goodness...

Now, you have to understand, I have never seen my dad express any emotion besides love, disappointment/anger, or sarcastic humor. I have never seen him cry. When dad began to speak, he didn't break down, but I definitely heard him start to lose control a couple of times.

I lost it.

If I had been alone, I would have been wailing. All I could think about was how wrong it all was. I know that Joe is a heck of a lot better off where he is now than when he was here, but dammit, EVERYBODY liked this kid. What happened on Sunday caused a beautiful person to be taken from this world before he even had the chance to show how much better he could make the place. I wanted to find a quiet room and bury my head in a pillow so that I could sob until I just didn't have anything left. But I had to stay, and I had to stay composed. So I just held my breath and let the tears flow. God, this isn't right.

Josh was one of the bearers. A fifteen year old kid should never have to carry his best friend's casket. There should be no caskets for fifteen year olds.

I saw men cry today. Big men. Strong men. Men who I thought could remain stoic through any tragedy faced by the world. The kind of men who would stand like rocks if they were facing the devil himself. I happened to see Nathan after the service; his eyes were red. I looked at Josh. I lost it again. Nathan almost did too.

On the way to the cemetery for the graveside service, "My Father's House" came on the radio. Joe's favorite song. Once more, I lost control. That song is just too danged appropriate for today.

There was love everywhere today. Nobody was petty. Nobody fought. Everybody just wanted to let everybody else know how great Joe was.

Joe would probably wonder what all the fuss was about.

Listening to - All That I Have Sown by Bebo Norman