
I am hanging in there. I worry about mom a lot. And in the calm, quiet moments, when peace begins to find me, I cry again. I've decided that's okay. Like now, typing this. But that's not what I want to post about. It was, as you might imagine, a deeply moving couple of weeks and I have much to reflect upon and write about. But I believe I will wait a while, let some of the pain scab over, before I explore the experience by writing about it. Like most of life's richest moments, it was a deep well full of both tears and laughter. Two faces, same coin. Intense joy for what was, intense sorrow at its loss, and celebration of the continuing legacy.
So, back to that.
Best. Funeral. Ever.
The music was incredible—Mom and Dad are heavy into the Dixieland Jazz scene in Nashville, and the incomparable Sam Levine, performer and member of the Church, arranged the musicians and all of the music for the ceremony, including the hymns requested by Dad: A Closer Walk with Thee, How Great Thou Art and Amazing Grace. The music was so moving, the congregation applauded at a funeral—a first for this church and perhaps many others. Ellen, my ridiculously talented niece, composed a piano piece in celebration of Dad and performed it from memory at the service. I was, as you might imagine, a bit of a wreck. But I found grace and comfort in a simple truth during the service:
You just can't cry in the face of a banjo.
The three sons each took 7-10 minutes to celebrate the life of our father. We did not compare notes beforehand, and each of our expressions were as unique as our personalities, and reflected our own individual relationships with our father. It never occurred to me prior to that point that, of course, we all would have a different relationship with Dad. I just thought of him as "Dad," but each son brought to the dynamic his own time, trials, tribulations, and tributes and so naturally we each had a slightly different yet shared perception of "Dad."
Okay, I'm processing and narrating again. This is supposed to be a brief post.
The service was awesome. So much so that I started jotting down sentiments overheard as we were leaving the church. Such as "That was so much fun!" "I would go to that funeral again tomorrow!" and "If they were selling DVDs of that service I would buy one!"
In his typical superlative fashion, John Beasley merely wrote, "No one in Nashville dare die for at least two years."
Dad requested long ago that his service be full of music and laughter, and we honored that request to trumpets and banners. So many friends and family have contacted us requesting copies of the sons' "performances" that I have made a website for people to visit and share. I remember thinking that morning that I wish I could video record the service, but dared not vocalize that desire as it did sound exceedingly eccentric. After the service we were surprised and grateful to learn that the church keeps an audio archive of each service, and they were able to burn for me a CD.
The website for the Service of the Witness to the Resurrection for John Bachman Hardcastle is split into five pages:
1) The Transcript: the program of the service with the written portions of each son's celebration of life.
2) The Service in Sections: The service, with transcripts from the celebration of life, with the audio track of the service broken into discrete sections so you can pick and choose which element you would like to hear.
3) The Service as a Whole: One long audio file of the service that you can listen to uninterrupted, in its entirety, with the transcript below.
4) The Service with Slideshow: Same as the previous page, but this audio recording of the service is accompanied by a slideshow of photos of John Hardcastle throughout the years.
5) The Obituary: presented in a readable format. The newspaper and the obituary website is convoluted with no line breaks. This is just much easier to read and share electronically.
So, with no further ado, here's the site. http://www.wilsonhardcastle.com/JBH/
Share. Comment. Enjoy. You know, enjoy it for what it is. It may be the best funeral ever, but it is still a funeral and I still can't listen to it without crying. But you also won't be able to get through it without laughing. I recommend listening to the brothers' bits (and Ellen's piano piece). Those really are meant to be heard and not read. After you listen to Ellen's piece. So beautiful.
Raise a glass to Papa John!


I am planning a "funeral listening party" to celebrate the life of my father. This will be small and intimate and if you think you are likely to be there, you may choose not to listen and rather wait until that time so you may hear the celebration with fresh ears.
Thank you all for your love and support during this time. That may sound trite, but it is true.
For the next several weeks, I will endeavor to post snark and City observations as much as personal introspections. This may appear to feature a little split personality disorder, but it will depend on my mood and what interesting things catch my eye. Things other than tears.
1 comment:
Wilson-
I stumbled upon your blog , and I must tell you , you have a marvelous gift of writing- you should go far with it....I knew your Dad well over many years of working together for the Friends of Warner Park. I have been on the advisory board there for over 20 years. Your Dad worked tirelessly for that organization, and easily fit into the rather large shoes Warner Bass left for him to fill as he ( your Dad) became president of our organization.
I found your comments about your fathers funeral service honest, poignant and quite moving. I look forward to hearing you and your brothers eulogies...I would encourage you to write more about your relationship w/ your father-, it is so rare today! Perhaps you should consider a book...
Anyway, thanks for inspiring me w/ your excellent writing skills...my thoughts and prayers go w/ your family..
Jim Douglas
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