Maverick, my heartfelt sympathies...I lost my best friend to cancer at this time last year and was asked by his wife to play a song at his funeral (with a friend). It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life, but I got through it. My friend, who has sung at services before, said she had learned not to look directly at anybody's faces when you speak, read, or sing at a funeral...which was a good tip. I brought my sheet music with me, even though I didn't need it, and focused on that...and I got through it (the song they had played at their wedding 2 years earlier...needless to say, if I had looked into his wife's face at that moment I would've lost it completely). So you'll find the strength, maverick...just focus on your notes.

Here's the most poignant poem for a funeral service I know...I discovered it recently at The Poetry Archives courtesy of an English gentleman named Chesil who maintains his own poetry archives (Chesil's Favourite Poetry).
This moving poem first came to public attention after a copy was left in an envelope for his parents by Steven Cummins, a soldier killed on active service in Northern Ireland, to be opened in the event of his death. In the weeks that followed the first broadcast, some 30,000 copies were requested from the British Radio Programme: The Bookworm:

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift, uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.

--Anon.

Some believe the poem has Native American roots, and it has been traced back to authorship there but never fully substantiated. Here's the other version:

Native American Prayer

I give you this one thought to keep --
I am with you still -- I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone --
I am with you still -- in each new dawn.

And here is the URL for the site where Chesil has archived poems pertaining to death if you need to find something
more suitable:

http://www.photoaspects.com/chesil/death/index.html

Again , maverick, my sincerest condolences...you'll find your way through it, I'm sure.

My Love and Prayers,
David