As we were planning for my father’s memorial service last week, we realized that we needed someone to run the sound system in the back of the chapel.

Running a CD player isn’t a difficult job, but this was a high pressure situation, and whoever did it would be separated from the rest of his or her family.  Neither I nor my siblings could do it, because we needed to be up front where we could speak. Asking my mom, of course, was out of the question.

So we turned to the kids.

After a couple older cousins turned down the job, I asked my oldest if he could step up.

“Sure,” he said. “But can you show me how to do it first?”

“Of course!”

Well, with everything going on, I forgot all about showing him how to work the CD player. I realized my mistake as the service was starting. I craned my head around to check on him. He met my eyes, flashed a smile, and gave me a thumbs-up.

It hit me then that of all the people in that chapel, my son was the one doing all the things my dad used to do: taking on the difficult job, figuring out how to do it on his own, and making us all think that he was glad to be doing it.