Funeral: Virginia Johnson 1936-2023

We all found out about the funeral from facebook.  I think Catherine, or another of my sisters had reported it.  I am not on facebook but once the arrangements were made the facebook reports let us know that the day would be November 11, 2023.

These days I think about Barnwell more often.  Where we come from.  I feel like important points in the arch of our family's history are solidly planted in the small little southern albertan town.  I felt that our family was old enough and it was time to start filling this role in the larger family group.

 Nov 11 was the funeral of Virginia Johnson.  Lovely, lovely, Aunt Virginia.

Virginia had been living down in Utah these last months or years of her life.  Between Larry's and Darla's if I recall.  A lovely part of Larry's talk centered around a day before Virginia's passing when she called Larry to have him come to Darla's home to all have dinner together.  It was a lovely thought that there might be some foreshadowing on that day and so a wonderful moment in a critical point of their lives is now a core memory.

We drove down, Miranda, Michael, Alice, Betty, and I.  Lots of wind.  We ran to buy nicer clothing for the children and left early saturday morning to arrive for the funeral.  Although being late for a funeral is a bit of a silly thought, it was certainly important to me to avoid it.  We dressed and ate breakfast for 9:30, then to Chris and Joan's at 10:30 for a little more breakfast, and finished dressing up there before making our way south.  I checked the oil before hand and Chris ran to his garage to add a litre of oil before we left.

The funeral began at 2:00 and we arrived at 1:30 or so.  We spent a few minutes in the halls outside of the relief societies area before going to the chapel for a pew.  We didn't make it into the family viewing area but it was packed.  There was a long lineup and after ten minutes in the hallway waiting for viewing Colleen Keeler came through and we instantly joined at the hip.  I had plans to bring the kids through the line, and get a chance to normalize holding the hand of a departed loved one, but it wasn't to be on this funeral.

Colleen said that Doug was in the pews just behind the reserved sections and so we went to sit near, and eventually sat in front of them.  It was lovely to chat while turned in your pew.  That can't happen very often.  Sort of turning in the pew and talking to those behind you.  

Coreen was there as well, along with the last sister, up from Pennsylvania if I recall.  That was the Johnson representation if I am right.  The chapel was FULL.  The bishop commented immediately that the Barnwell LDS chapel does not often see such a presence.  

Larita and all of the Barfusses were of course, there as well.  Another pile of Calgarians down for the celebration of Virginia.  

Driving down to the funeral was a treacherous ordeal.  We were pushed from the winds to the point at which all semi & tractor trucks were pulled over on the highway unable to drive and stay upright.  I was steering a good 30 degrees to the right in order to stay straight along the highway.  The tumble weeds were fierce and it was fun to talk to the kids about the tumble weeds.  Dorothy herself would have thought that a transportation to the emerald city was possible.

The funeral began with a talk from Nonavee Campbell, Virginia's sister.  There was a long list of interesting tales that were laughed at together with the congregation.  Many memorable moments of their childhood together.  Although today's standards would find those moments startlingly politically incorrect, these were memories from a different world (like dressing as aunt Jemima with a plate of pancakes and paint on one's face). There were about four stories that left me thinking about the differences between a small town and a large metropolis, in terms of what people know, how people act, and how people treat each other.  Kind ignorance isn't foul like hatred and pointed mean spiritedness: for example, how would a child know that a new child is spanish and not black, if they've only ever seen a sea of white faces living in a sea of wheat and mustard and corn?

After Nonavee spoke, the two dozen grand children went up, and all sang together 'teach me about the temple'.  Virginia and Bev had a very special relationship with the temple.  Many years of baptisms for the dead.  Many years of volunteer work at the temple.  The song was appropriate for Virginia's loves, but for me, the moving part was staring at these grandchildren, about 14 years of age to about 30 or so.  One very specific grandchild stole my undivided attention: a 20-something adult, with a long sleeved cotton Carharrt t-shirt, two humongous hoop earrings, a warm looking knit toque, and the sharp handsome jaw of a supermodel --  and so uncomfortable and out of place.

The song finished, and then Larita and Darla spoke together.  They talked together after proclaiming that their family were 'criers' and that they'd try to get through it.  Staring at these faces was like exploring a booklet of children's drawings of a giraffe.  Every giraffe a little different, but all the same.  Darla's face, Larita's, Larry's, I look left or right and I see Kelvin Sr's face.  All different, all the same.  I know every one of these giraffes.  They are all the same.

Larry got up to speak afterwards.  A similar message, 'we are a family of criers'.

Larry is commanding.  He is soft and towering, and can draw you in with his radiant heart.  His was the last talk.  After about 20 minutes of talk, in a chapel with no natural windows for lighting, the power went off.  Only for ten seconds, but when it turned back on Larry said "I guess that's my cue".  Another five minutes of talking and yet another blackout in the building.  I suppose that wind had followed us all the way to Barnwell and had taken out a bit of the power nearby.

I got two moments with Larry.  He was always an iconic person to me.  His eldest son reminds me of Mike Card.  That beautiful child with the hoop earings.  

While in the gym, waiting to lineup for the most spectacular roast beef sandwiches', I took my chance to walk over to Larry to get my two minutes with him.  Half way there, a young twenty something filling water glasses with a pitcher stopped me.....

"I'm sorry, but you look so much like uncle Bev".

I have never been given a compliment so meaningful.  A random person that I'd never met, and they were compelled to stop me and say something like that.  The worst part of that compliment... was that it was the compliment that I was going straight to Larry to give to him!!!!!

We got our talk, and it was a lifetime of sharing in seven minutes.  I brought him over to my table to introduce him to my family.  We talked about feelings and struggles and our particular genetic makeup.  I shared with him Kelvins trip to Edmonton alone, and he shared with me Bev and Kelvins interaction that kept a person alive.  But seven minutes was what the world had in store.  That beautiful boy of his came by with his earrings, and said "dad, we're supposed to take a family photo right now".  

I had been talking to Larry about that child, and he was telling me the challenges and I was telling him the challenges of Mike Card that could be a mirror of his boy.  For my ten seconds with Will, I told him how fantastic his earrings were, how he must be a basketball player, and how he reminded me of the most important friend of mine from my childhood.  

He told me that they were Virginia's earrings.

Before the food, Larry was dedicating the grave nearby.  We tried to catch up to the procession, my little family.  We got there although Barnwell is so unfamiliar to google that googlemaps tried to send us through a farmers field to get over to the cemetery.  We got there after a few circles around.  A little grove of pines just behind the city, just a stones throw away from Virginia and Bev's house in Barnwell.

The wind had arrived for the Dedication as well.  Despite the wind break of the trees people were leaning heavily to the left in order to not fall.  There were five folding chairs near the grave site and the folding chairs could not stay erect for the gail force of the wind.  We stood next to Colleen and Doug but the moment was cut short because of the weather.  Both of my little girls wanted to take a rose from the top of the casket.  We kept those roses on the kitchen table in a cup until they crumbled away last week.

I'm not sure what else to say about Virginias funeral.  Virginia was the love of Bev's life.  Into old age they were reaching for each other, holding hands, showing affection.  They were in love.  I loved Virginia.  

I started driving to this funeral knowing that it was the right thing to do.  But doing it for the right reasons ended up being the right thing for me.  Attending the celebration of Aunt Virginia was for me.  I love my family, I love this life.  What a wonderful moment, or collection of moments that we are gifted with in this life.