Go Down, Death.

The funeral was beautiful. God packed so much into 20-odd years, using them as witnesses to His greatness, storing up treasures in heaven. His work in them was done, so He freed them from this tired world, to have them join the Celebration.
The service concluded with this poem by James Weldon Johnson. 

Go Down, Death

Weep not, weep not

She is not dead;

She's resting on the bosom of Jesus.

Heart-broken husband- weep no more;

Grief-stricken son- weep no more; 

Left-lonesome daughter- weep no more;

She only just gone home.

Day before yesterday morning,

God was looking down from His great, high heaven,

Looking down on all His children,

And His eye fell on Sister Caroline,

Tossing on her bed of pain.

And God's big heart was touched with pity, 

With the everlasting pity.

And God sat back on His throne,

And He commanded that tall, bright angel standing at His right hand:

Call me Death!

And that tall, bright angel cried in a voice

That broke like a clap of thunder: 

Call Death! Call Death!

And the echo sounded down the streets of heaven

Till it reached away back to that shadowy place,

Where Death waits with his pale, white horses.

And Death heard the summons,

And he leaped on his fastest horse,

Pale as a sheet in the moonlight.

Up the golder street Death galloped,

And the hooves of his horses struck fire from the gold,

But they didn't make no sound.

Up Death rode to the Great White Throne,

And waited for God's command. 

And God said: Go down, Death, go down,

Go down to Savannah, Georgia,

Down in Yamacraw,

And find Sister Caroline.

She's borne the burden and heat of the day,

She's labored long in my vineyard,

And she's tired-

She's weary-

God down, Death, and bring her to me.

And Death didn't say a word,

But he loosed the reins on his pale, white horse,

And he clamped the spurs to his bloodless sides,

And out and down he rode,

Through heaven's pearly gates,

Past suns and moons and stars;

on Death rode,

Leaving the lightning's flash behind;

Straight down he came.

White we were watching round her bed,

She turned her eyes and looked away,

She saw what we couldn't see;

She saw Old Death. She saw Old Death

Coming like a falling star.

But Death didn't frighten Sister Caroline;

He looked to her like a welcome friend.

And she whispered to us: I'm going home,

And she smiled and closed her eyes.

And Death took her up like a baby,

And she lay in his icy arms,

But she didn't feel no chill.

And death began to ride again-

Up beyond the evening star,

Into the glittering light of glory,

On to the Great White Throne.

And there he laid Sister Caroline

On the loving breast of Jesus.

And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away her tears,

And he smoothed the furrows from her face,

And the angels sang a little song,

And Jesus rocked her in His arms,

And kept-a-saying: Take your rest,

Take your rest.

Weep not, weep not,

She is not dead;

She's resting in the bosom of Jesus.

It still feels surreal that they've gone away. I feel so tired and worn out, but one thing is sure: life is beautiful and precious, yet the eternal life we will experience if we believe in Jesus Christ will be infinitely greater. We celebrate their lives- mourning our loss, but rejoicing that they are in heaven with God. 

To Him be the glory in all of our mountains and valleys, for He carries us through. He has been and will continue to be glorified through their lives and the legacy they leave.