Funeral

Monday April 22nd was my children’s first day back at school from April vacation. The morning routine of breakfast, teeth brushing, teeth mashing, snack packing, and hustling to the bus was back on.

Dan and I were late to our 10:30 appointment at St. Mary’s cemetery to select mom’s burial plot, and ours as well. We quickly selected a nice place in the middle with our plots facing each other. It oddly felt appropriate for Dan and I choose a place facing her after all that we had been through in the days and weeks leading up to her passing. However, it’s a bit sobering to select your burial plot before your 40th birthday.

That evening my uncle Steve arrived for the service on Wednesday. And so the discussions and differing views for her second memorial began.

Tuesday April 23rd, that morning I made breakfast and visited with Steve and enjoyed Leni and Matty for the day. Dan my husband was working from home that day too.

I finalized the readings gospel and hymns for my mother’s funeral service. Even through all of this nothing really seemed sad, just part of the process.

That afternoon, my husband and I actually had a meeting at my daughter’s school about her special education services. She has a Speech and Sound disorder. The meeting at 2pm, didn’t go well. I entered the room with condolences and left the room with condolences, but I only felt fury, feeling nothing meaningful had been accomplished for our young daughter. This feeling lingered over me through the days to come and still today. Despite this, I know that my daughter will get all she needs and I will be sure she does.

Following the meeting, Dan and I rejoined the family at home, I made myself a margarita to take the edge off. Aiming to recenter myself to my family for the evening, I enjoyed time outside with my kids the first day without rain in what seemed like months.

Once every one went to bed for the night with marching orders for getting up in the morning, I waited for my father to arrive at 11pm. We briefly visited over some wine and the retired for the evening just after midnight.

On Wednesday April 24th, I’m not sure I slept at all in anticipation of what the day had ahead. I just remember waking and getting myself ready for the day, and making sure my kids had a normal day. Neva asked me why I was all dressed up with make-up. Clearly this is not how she sees me regularly now that I am no longer a corporate killer. Explaining to her what we were going to be doing was hard. Her eyes welled with tears “is nana going into the ground?” I can’t recall what soft version I told her but I did not lie. My own tears spilled over as we comforted each other. I’ve mentioned before Neva looks a lot like me, but I think even more like my mother. Her big eyes, they draw you in, and when they are sad, it’s hard not to fall right in with her. I emailed her teacher later on the ride to the funeral home giving her a heads up that Neva might be more emotional that day.

I recall getting downstairs to see 2/3 of my kids eating breakfast Steve up and showered, but, still in PJ pants. Dan saved me from unnecessary nagging and said “we have to be there by 8:00am so you should change Fish Fish.” Steve was horrified, exchanged his a muffled chuckle of sorry and retreated to ‘his lair’ to change into his funeral attire. Meanwhile my father in law arrived in his best suit to take Neva to the bus, and later to be with us at the funeral home for visiting hours.

We arrived at the funeral home at 8:15am, Steve, Dan, and myself exited the car. I don’t know why I thought I’d have time to drink my coffee in the car, so I left it to sip later. As I got out of the backseat I noticed my fresh out of the package, Spanx pantyhose had a run in them by my right ankle.

Sidebar – this is the second pair of Spanx pantyhose I’ve had, that have done this during the inaugural wear. I don’t have long nails, or jewelry that would catch on them. I love Spanx, especially the leggings, but the pantyhose, WTF? Didn’t she build her business on this??? The most annoying part is the dress I was wearing I didn’t really need all the control support what have you, ugh. For $39.99 a pair, that’s a racket. Okay rant over.

The pit in your stomach when you’re getting ready to see someone in a casket, there is no other feeling. Let alone someone close to you in your family, like your young mother. I began to stress sweat like I was going to a meeting I was worried about the outcome of…

She looked like her beautiful self, and her nails looked great, I was happy I had painted them. Her dress was a pink and purple leopard print with long sleeves. I had picked it out at Nordstrom on Sunday April 14th. It was her style, with a nice scarf like feature at the neckline, and went perfectly with the orchid colored casket I had picked out a week before. The detailing on the handles also looked like the iridescent blue shell she had in front of her fireplace in her townhouse. Everything was in place, as she would have liked it. I had chosen that funeral home in part because she would have liked it. That sounds really odd to say, but it’s true.

Fr. Joyce did an amazing job with the mass. St. Mary’s is a big, old, beautiful stain-glass window church with a pipe organ and bell tower. Like something out of a movie, we entered, watched Fr. Joyce elegantly perform for mom, and the rest of us. The vocalist was exceptional and paired with the pipe organ, was only fitting for my mother’s final mass. My mother had been to mass in our church a few times before and for both Neva and Leni’s baptisms. Due to her troubles with her left leg prior to her illness, she wasn’t well enough to travel for Matty’s this last November. After Fr. Joyce beautifully performed the final prayers around my mother’s casket, we exited and proceeded to the cemetery.

It had been raining for days but the clouds had been held off from the day before so we had beautiful late morning sunshine to greet us there at the gravesite.

As we were ushered to our seats by Joe, the head of the funeral home, he quickly stepped out and began to curtly address his ‘dressed men’ about how the floral arrangements were being displayed around my mother’s casket. “The Nana arrangements go on the ends there are two Nana arrangements , why are they not on the ends. Now put that one in the middle. No! The Nanas are on the ends!!!” I tried not to giggle but I’m sure my mother was roaring with laughter. Again, I had chosen this particular undertaker because he was thoughtful, kind, professional and I knew he gave attention to every last detail. He did not disappoint.

Next, Matthew, the youngest of the dressed men began handing out red carnations for everyone to place on mom’s casket. Matthew could not have been more than 25 years old, and seemed to be the successor in training for the elder Joe. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Joe moving back toward us, “Matthew! Matthew!Flowers go the immediate family first!!!” Poor Matthew had started toward the back of the line. He sheepishly made his way to me and then Steve, and so on… Never the less, we all got flowers. We then seated ourselves on those faux grass covered chairs that are at gravesites. Who thought of that? And why, to blend in? Shortly thereafter, Fr. Joyce haphazardly walked from his vehicle to us seated and standing at the gravesite. As I sat there, fighting giggles, I imagined my mom crying with laughter over everything that had just transpired. In my mind I could hear that infectious laugh of hers.

Once Fr. Joyce had performed once again, and said his thoughtful goodbyes to us, we laid our flowers on mom’s casket, I began walking back toward our cars.

What I had expected to be excruciatingly difficult moment, somehow, felt warm and humorous. Those moments of levity was in part somehow to my mother’s spirit channeling out to us saying, “I’m okay, smile, laugh, and remember, I’m in a good place.”

We then headed to Prezo the local restaurant we booked a private room for a meal post. It was nice to catch up with friends I had not seen since mom had been sick.

Once we wrapped up, our small group headed home to visit and see the kids.

The sun was shining so we took advantage of the patio with a fire and drinks. Watching the kids play and visiting with my husband, my uncle, and my father, had only a few a moments of ‘really’, but the day ended not like any other, but, not with the unbearable sadness I would have expected.

I didn’t take any photos the day of mom’s funeral. Here are just two of only maybe ten photos I have in total with my mom and dad. Thank you dad for being there for me, on a really difficult day.