I was in a room of four solid walls.  It was dark, real dark.  I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face.  Well that’s more of a figure of speech since I couldn’t actually move.  The peculiar part about the room was that it seemed as if the room was moving.  I knew that this was impossible so I assumed that I was simply disoriented from the darkness.  Then I heard people on the other side.  I heard muffled sentences that were hard to make out.  But without a shadow of a doubt I heard my name, “Geoff,” a couple of times.  I wanted to call out, but I couldn’t.  The walls made it hard to tell who the voices belonged to.  Then suddenly I could see all of them.  All my family and close friends were huddled around a black box, but I didn’t understand why they were all visibly upset.  Then I understood that they were attending a funeral.  I didn’t understand why I wasn’t attending the funeral.  Was I dreaming?  Maybe I had fallen asleep.  I could see everything, but I had no physical form.  I was looking down upon the scene.  I saw the pallbearers set the casket down.  Several minutes later a man got up from his pew and walked up to the pulpit.  I couldn’t see the man’s face but he seemed to be about to give the eulogy.  I was curious to who the funeral was for.  He started with the words, “Today we remember the life of Geoffrey Peterson.”

Today was one of those days that you wish no one, not even your worst enemy, would have to experience.  I was getting ready to attend my son’s funeral.  I put on my suit, the one I hoped I would wear to my son’s wedding.  I got the rest of the family together and drove over to First Assembly of God.  The viewing was the day before.  It was hard not to constantly remember the image of your nineteen year old's lifeless body.  When we arrived to the church, people were trying to comfort us.  Many of Geoff’s friends from school came up to us and told us how good of a friend he was.  That word kept coming up.  Geoff was no longer an “is” but a “was.”  The pallbearers sat down the casket down.  That was my cue to get ready for the eulogy.  I had prepared a eulogy that I hoped would do an adequate job in remember Geoff’s life.  As I walked up towards the pulpit,  I hoped that Geoff was looking down at us.  I began my eulogy with the words, “Today we remember the life of Geoffrey Peterson.”