Tag: Coal Creek Community Church

It was a beautiful day on Saturday, November 8th, at Coal Creek Community Church in Galax. The adjacent cemetery is a place I visited many times throughout my life, walking beside my father as he told me stories about my grandparents and great-grandparents. I always enjoyed those history lessons. This time, though, I went there with the rest of my family to lay my father to rest. It was a moment I had dreaded my entire life, yet the service could not have been more beautiful or more honoring of him. It was the nicest service I have ever attended, and that felt fitting for the greatest man I have ever known. My sister, Tara Sanchez, designed a breathtaking remembrance table complete with badges, plaques, and photos from his life and career. Her slideshow—more than 600 photos spanning eight decades—was heart-wrenching, as were her beautiful memorial cards. It was the greatest display I have ever seen. Attendees numbered more than 150 family members, friends, and representatives from all four departments where he worked, along with four Wythe County sheriffs, past and present, and the current Vinton chief, whom Dad had hired. My cousin Jane Harrison, one of four sisters my father claimed as his own, officiated the hour-long ceremony. It opened with the eulogy I delivered, as I made good on the promise I once made to him that I would not cry. Oddly enough, I could not shed a single tear throughout the entire service. It seemed my grief ran deeper than anything tears could express. I watched my mother sob in pain. I do not see my mother cry very often, and when I do, it feels as though the world is ending. To see her so undone, so incurably devastated, rendered me the most helpless of sons—especially knowing all of us were experiencing the same heartbreak for the same reason, and that nothing any of us could do would ease the pain. If you read my column last week, then you already know the heart of the tribute I delivered at my father’s celebration of life. “I remember giving my first eulogy for my great-grandmother eleven years ago. My dad was there beside me, helping me turn the pages. I tried so hard not to cry, but when I broke down at the end, he put his arm around me and said, ‘Good job, buddy.’ How I long for his presence and his words of approval today,” I began, ending with these words: “As much as I wish he were standing beside me today, it would only be so that I could put my arm around him and say, ‘You did a good job.’” Steve Campbell is a master orator whom I first met 14 years ago at my father’s retirement banquet. He had worked under my dad at the High Point Police Department in the early 1970s before retiring as a captain. He and my father continued their friendship for the next half century. “He was a leader, not just a capable administrator,” Steve said. “His ability to communicate with people from all walks of life was one of his greatest strengths. He could identify with everyone—from the poverty-stricken to the elite and the elected politicians. Chief Herb Cooley’s steadfast dedication was instrumental in building, maintaining, and preserving professional police services wherever he served.” My cousin Jane next shared her first memory of him, from when she was in the first grade and he was a teenager. “We were in a shed, shielding ourselves from the cold as we waited for the school bus,” she recalled. “This tall teenage boy stood with his back to us, blocking the wind as best he could. I thought he was wonderful, and from that moment on, I always felt that way. He was always our protector, and he spent his life protecting the public.” Her sister Carol then spoke of him in a similar fashion. “We loved him and looked up to him our entire lives,” she stated. “His legacy is one of a life well lived.” It was unexpected when my Uncle Doug Cooley stood to speak. We were fairly certain he had opted out, not believing himself emotionally able, but he did a wonderful job. Not only were they brothers, but Dad was also Doug’s boss for 14 years at the Wythe County Sheriff’s Office. “Everyone who ever worked for him or played on his softball team became his family,” he said. “Everything he did, he turned into a family event.” “In the darkest moments of my life, he gave me a sense of security I’ve never had,” said my wife, his beloved daughter-in-law, through tears. “He knew, both of us having heart conditions, how hard it was to put one foot in front of the other, and he asked about my health even in his last days.” “Herb was a great friend who always gave me much-needed advice,” said Deborah Duncan, High Point University Police Chief. “He told me my job in law enforcement was important and to do it well, but to always remember that family was the most important job.” During the graveside service, Emily sang a beautiful rendition of his favorite song, “The Rose.” My sister also read “You Have Not Lost Me,” a poem by Gemma Russell. However, it was the Russell County Honor Guard that brought the greatest reverence to the ceremony as they marched in to fold the flag, salute his remains, and carry them across the street to his final resting place as we followed. Their 21-gun salute and the bugling of “Taps” were delivered in perfect order as my mom was handed the flag and saluted. It was a moment of indescribable emotion—an honor my father well deserved. Our family is forever indebted to Coal Creek Community Church for the use of their facilities, to Roger Blevins of High Country Funeral Services, and to Galax Cakery for catering our meal afterward. Dad would be proud.