It was a sad funeral. The church was filled to the brim, the priest was a friend of the family so it was very personal, the family gave the eulogy and it ended with Frank Sinatra singing, "My Way." Tears everywhere.
We saw people we hadn't seen in many years and were able to talk with old friends afterward. The entire town was there: the farmers, fishermen, bankers, businessmen, council members, current and former mayors and just plain folks like us.
While he was being buried at the cemetery on the pass, everyone met at the Portuguese Cultural Center for the reception. The services were just over two hours and I was worried about Michael's blood sugar so we went to eat lunch before joining everyone. We were able to see the people we wanted to give our condolences to before the rest of the family arrived from the burial.
Cocktails were flowing, food was ready to be served but people were more interested in taking with each other. It was a really big deal for this little town.
We had to meet British Don in the city so we left before the food was served and on our way out the door, an older gentlemen walked down the steps with us. He asked if we were going by the church and, if so, could he have a ride to his car.
It turned out that he had driven down from Seattle for the services and was the banker who took a chance on the two brothers 50 years ago when they needed financing for fishing boats. Eventually, they owned seven fishing boats working in the Alaskan waters.
The older brother died. The younger brother brought tears to our eyes. His brother was the visionary. His brother was his hero. He was struggling with the fact that he was no longer here but trying to remember all the good times and lessons he learned from his older brother.
It was hard to see the family struggling with the loss of this dear man. His two children and five grandchildren will deeply miss him in their lives but, it was his brother who's heart was broken.