My friend told me not to look at their faces

I tried to look away, I really did.  I told myself that it would be better that way.  But her face, her eyes drew me in.  She couldn't have been more than 85 pounds soaking wet.  Her gray hair was piled in a bun on top of her head.   She looked so lost, so bewildered.  I just wanted to pick her up in my arms and hold her.  The young man that escorted her up to the casket stood by her side and supported her as best he could.  But it was obvious that as young and tall and strong as he was, he couldn't take away her heartache.  It was obvious to everyone in the church that she was standing alone in these moments and no one could really take away her pain.    It was the time of the Mass when Father invites the congregation to share the sign of peace with those around them.  She walked from her pew and took a few steps to the silver casket where her husband's body lay and she gently rested her hand upon his silver casket.  She didn't sob or cry out.  She was so quiet in fact that, in some strange way, it was actually the loudest announcement of all telling us  to stand at attention.   And, when you looked closely you could see the moisture of a few tears on her cheeks; you could see the sorrowful story written all over her face.   After 68 years of marriage she was saying a final good-bye to her faithful and loving husband.   What would she do ? How would she survive without him? They had no children, it was just the two of them - partners- together all these many years.
Don't look at their faces and you'll make it through the funeral services without crying.   Oh why didn't I listen to my dear, wise friend?
Honestly, as I stood there on the altar in my role of lay minister waiting to share the Eucharist with the family, I could not turn my gaze away from her sweet little face.  I tried, I really, really tried.