Okay, I want to share something really lovely. Might be allergy-inducing.
My great-uncle died Thursday (I don't need hugs at all -- it wasn't unexpected; he was 94 and had been in poor health for a few years). The funeral was today, and I couldn't go because of reunion (which was fine). My mom went, though, and here's the story she told me:
My great-uncle was a WWII veteran (he was in the landing at Normandy, actually; apparently Day 2 rather than Day 1, and in some ways I think Day 2 must have been even *worse* -- imagine being 18, 19 years old and seeing all that carnage) and a Korean War veteran. The nursing home he was in was just for veterans.
He died around midnight, and his family was waiting for the coroner to show up to transport the body. When his daughter went out in the hall -- this was maybe 2 a.m. -- there was a little old guy in a wheelchair, kind of rolling up and down, like pacing, but in a wheelchair.
Daughter asked him if he needed help back to his room, and he said no, he was the escort.
When the coroner finally arrived, and was ready to take the body out, there was a bunch of veterans, who were all wearing their uniforms, ready to escort my great-uncle out.
(I'm all teary again, typing this.)
So at 3 a.m., they escorted him out to the parking lot and played "Taps" for him.
His daughter said that that, right there, was all the funeral she could have asked for.
That's the most beautiful thing I've heard in a long time.