Paying Respects

photo (c) Don Busath

James and I paid our respects to President Gordon B. Hinckley this morning. They had a special "Church employees only" session before the public viewing, so it wasn't too crowded. I hadn't felt too affected by his death, and I didn't expect to be too affected by his viewing. I mean, he's 97 years old, and he gets to be with his dear wife again, so it's not like this is a sad occasion.

But the Spirit there was very tender and sweet. Walking through the main auditorium of the conference center that is so much his legacy was a strangely reverent experience. And then to see him lying there in his temple clothes was moving. But what really got me was a photo they had on display near the exit, a snapshot of him and Marjorie when they were much younger and laughing. I actually cried, and it took me longer than expected to regain my composure.

I can't say exactly why I cried. I wasn't sad, and though I feel great fondness toward him I had no real connection with him. But the whole experience was very tender and sweet. I know I already said that, but I can't find better words for it. It was worth getting up early on a snowy day to go, and I'm really glad we went.