The Other Phoebe

The adult son of a member of our ward passed away recently. His funeral is tomorrow at our church building and I'm in charge of making the program. That means I've spent a fair amount of time the last week reviewing funeral programs and funeral etiquette online. I've also met with the grieving mother twice to find a picture of her son to use for the front of the program. Thanks to prayer and Facebook, we found a happy, flattering picture. Bryan is currently editing and polishing the program.

The sister in my ward is named Phoebe. I had only spoken to her once prior to this week, just long enough to say hello, introduce myself, and tell her about my own Phoebe. Now she talks to me like we're old friends. I think that's her nature. The other Phoebe is seventy-three years old and has lived a very different life than I expect my Phoebe will live, and yet, they both have a flair and a spunk that makes them seem similar. They're both delighted to know another Phoebe.

I've never been on the planning side of a funeral. I've prepared musical numbers for several funerals, but I've never helped with organizing food or speakers or any of those important details. I'm really not doing much this time either, but I've been a sounding board for the Relief Society president as she organizes food for the 125+ guests, and I've listened while the elder Phoebe spoke about plans and family drama and happy memories of her son.

It has been a week of education.