A Sad Farewell

For two days it has been rainy, damp and gray here. Everyone has been wondering around kind of sad and lost. I could hear the big girls singing, preparing for the service. I have never seen such mud, and this is the time of year it's supposed to be warm and sunny. There's no hot water, I feel dirty, emotionally drained and just plain missing Ken. Just about everyday for 8 months I have checked on him and cared for him. There is a huge hole in my heart and in my day.
Today was his funeral, woke up to rain again. They brought his body back to Nyumbani in a plain little wooden coffin about 9:15 this morning. Mum Terry, Sr. Julie, myself and cottage D escorted it into the school room. The kids came from all over the compound and took their seats, with us closest to Ken. The music was haunting and sad, the tears flowed down their faces. These kids have been through so much loss, have so much uncertainty in their lives. The older kids have seen so many children die, they all fear they will be next. Fr. Ludwig did a great service, he cried too. The D kids did the readings, you would have been proud of how they did. Some of us said prayers, I prayed for all the volunteers all over the world who came to know and love Ken's spirit and light, that they continue to feel it and spread it, so that he is remembered and never forgotten around the world.
At the end of the service they opened this little door on top of the coffin and you could look through a little pane of glass at his face. That was weird. The kids all filed by, looking, rubbing their hands on the wood. When it was just the adults in the room Protus opened the coffin, (closed only by a hook and eye lock.) and I put in his DC hat, a letter I wrote him and a picture of his DC aunties.
Then we headed to the cemetery, about a 20 minute drive away. He got another ride in the new truck! When we arrived there we saw his open grave, in a children's section, 4 more empty ones waiting. It is row upon row of wooden crosses with children's names, sometimes only first names, often only the year of birth because they have been abandoned and nobody knew their birthday.
We sang and prayed, then everyone shoveled dirt. Most touching was the men of Nyumbani, the drivers, staff, how lovingly they filled in the grave,smoothed out the top, we placed all our flowers on it and then we left. How hard to leave him behind.
I gave Ignatius, his best friend, his watch from Susanne. He was so proud and touched, I don't think he will ever take it off either.
And now, life goes on. Thank you for all your support, it's meant a lot.