Phil's letter to my mother

Phil wrote a letter to my mother after his cousin, Parke Weaver's funeral. I asked if I could copy some of it.

Dear Mother,
I was back in Lancaster County again yesterday. As I sat near the front of Conestoga Mennonite Church for the funeral of my cousin, Parke, in front of me to my right was my Uncle Milford and Aunt Ruth, who lost their son Galen in (I think) 1962. He was my buddy, one year older than I. We went to church together, and usually afterwards, either he or I would end up at the other's home for Sunday afternoon. He was in second grade, "helping" his Dad run irrigation pipes for the potatoes and darted across the road to see if the pipe was coming out the other side of the culvert just as a car happened to drive by, striking him and breaking his neck. It was a country road, hardly any traffic, and I can imagine he never expected anybody to drive by.
Beside Uncle Milford, directly in front of me, was my Uncle Oliver. His son, Michael, maybe 12 years old at the time, was suffocated when a silo exploded while the grain was being taken out. Uncle "Ollie" and his daughter, Julie, were the survivors of that tragedy. Besides Michael, three others perished under a suffocating blanket of corn. A neighbor and his daughter and Billy Baker, the son of Uncle Ollie's hired man, Neil Baker, died that day.
Sitting beside me on my right were Uncle Paul Mast and Aunt Rhoda. Their son, Danny died when a piece of equipment that he was working with slipped and crushed his head. Danny was around 14 years old when this happened.
And my folks were sitting to my left. It will be 4 years ago that Johnny passed away.
As the service progressed, I observed that those around me had known grief, deep sorrow, unimaginable loss. And yet my Uncle Milford had his arms raised, singing along with the nieces and nephews of my cousin who had gone to be with the Lord. Why are we expected to sing at a time like this? But we should sing, it is good for the soul. And my Dad, eyes closed with his hands extended as he worshiped the Lord. So, in the midst of the grief, sorrow, and loss that was in their past, they had learned to praise Him.....

......We love you. Phil