David Crabtree recalls the life and accomplishments of Kay Hagan

Close to 1,600 of us were packed into First Presbyterian Church of Greensboro this afternoon.

Political royalty, including a presidential candidate, a Republican member of the Senate and a sitting North Carolina governor helped fill the pews. Family and friends from several states made their way to central North Carolina on a chilly November afternoon to celebrate a life fully lived and cut tragically short.

As with any major gathering the folks inside the magnificent sanctuary talked softly with one another, an occasional phone rang and was quickly silenced and without saying it we knew each of us also remembered our own Kay Hagan stories.

As the murmurs grew louder about 15 minutes before the service was to begin, we all fell silent as a string quartet began playing the Ave Maria. I think it’s safe to say the majority inside this awe inspiring Protestant space were non-Roman Catholic yet we knew the tune.

I learned the lyrics to this heart rendering piece years ago and this afternoon I felt their reverberation within me.

Ave Maria…full of grace…hail Mary full of grace. Ave Maria mother of God.

The service then began with a bagpiper leading the procession, which included her husband, Chip, children Jeanette, Tilden and Carrie. Siblings and cousins, former Senator Claire McCaskill of Missouri and Gov. and Mrs. Roy Cooper.

Also in the special seating, former Gov. Jim Hunt who personally nudged Hagan to run against incumbent Elizabeth Dole in 2008. Until then, most big name Democrats had declined as they felt Dole was too formidable.

Two things could have happened today.

The afternoon could have turned political and we could have remembered Kay Hagan larger in death than in life. Those things could have happened. Neither did.

Chip, who nursed his sick wife through her terrible ordeal of three years, humbly thanked those who came.

The Hagan children remembered their mother and mentor.

Cooper spoke of the true public servant Hagan was, first in the state Senate and then in Washington.

Claire McCaskill made us laugh and cry when she spoke of her friend’s determination and reputation as ‘feisty.’

Hagan loved to swim.

When she first arrived in Washington she wanted to swim in the small U.S. Senate pool.

In 2009, the pool was still for “male members only.”

Some, McCaskill said, “chose to swim without their swim trunks.”

Before Hagan left in 2014, she swam in that pool.

“Even of more significance,” McCaskill said as she wiped away a tear, “We held Kay’s good-bye party at the pool,”

My experience was different than most.

As journalists we simply cannot be friends with elected officials. We can be friendly and hopefully, decent and fair, yet the adversarial role won’t allow us to be friends. We each have a role to play. As I watched and listened today, I felt a hollowness even sadness, because of the reality of the job.

Any of you who have followed my work have heard me say many times, “We (journalists) are not robots.”

We have our own feelings about policies and politics. About elections and envy. About people and personalities. Most importantly, about humanness and humanity.

As I looked around the room and saw people of all types of political, religious, cultural, social, racial, and financial differences, I thought of a quote I heard years ago in class at Duke Divinity School, “To understand why another does not understand seems to me beyond the power of humanity.”

Five years ago when then Sen. Hagan lost a bitter battle to now Sen. Thom Tillis, she was bruised by the lack of civility of a political campaign. She wasn’t the first. Unfortunately, she won’t be the last.

Yes, it comes with the territory. And with a cost. For each of us.

The funeral service, which the Presbyterians call “A Service to the Witness to the Resurrection,” serves as a reminder of how short our time is here on this earth. The great common denominator of death will visit each of us. There’s no escaping.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s time for each of us to begin to look at one another differently. In particular those with whom we vehemently disagree.

I wish I had known Kay Hagan as a friend. I wish I could talk with public officials and they would drop their guards and facades. Maybe one day we will all listen to one another differently. I believe she would have liked that. I’d like to believe she tried to do that.

Kay Ruthven Hagan was only 66. She left us far too soon.