I knew I as going to blog about my weekend last week. I am a horrible procrastinator and of course, I pick today of all days to update you all on my weekend last. For those of you unaware, mom may be gone 2 ½ weeks already, but dad’s been gone 8 years now….as in today. Sometimes my memory is a blessing and sometimes it is a curse. But I was with him when he died and helped in arranging the services. We had the open casket at the funeral too, that helped with the closure. I wasn’t with mom when she died, she was cremated before I got there so sometimes it seems very surreal that she is really gone. Anyway….I’m posting this in reverse order so you can read it in the order things happened as opposed to jumping all around my blog to read it. So, just scroll down and you’ll find Thursday and Friday in one post. Then Saturday and Sunday in another post.
We had to leave later than expected on Thursday. We had a bill that was due on Friday and they WOULD NOT let us pay it on Monday, so we waited until they opened (AT TEN!!!) Thursday morning so we could pay it and get a move on. Randy’s boss gave him 11 days grievance. We didn’t need that much, but it was one of those no choice options. I had everything packed the day before so the car was packed up first thing in the morning.
We finally got on the road about 10:30 am Thursday morning. We stopped on just on the other side of the AR/MO line to see a friend really fast and meet for lunch. Then we were off again. Randy had me drive in the afternoon in MO and with my night blindness I could only drive about 2 hours before we had to pull over. All I could see were white dots, so I knew it was time to get off the road. After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at the hotel about midnight. The kids had decided to strip almost naked when they went to sleep in the car and north central Illinois had about 4 inches of snow on the ground, ice on top of that, and some blustery, cold winds. They WERE NOT happy to be removed from the car. Randy slept okay that night, me not so much. My brother, Micah, had called earlier and he was to pick up our sister, Sonja, at the airport that night. We were to meet at gramma’s to go through mom’s things BEFORE TEN am the next morning. I fell asleep about dawn and then of course, slept through the alarm.
We arrived at Gramma’s on time the next day, but Micah didn’t get there until almost noon. Micah and Randy supervised the kids playing in the yard. They acted like they had never seen snow before. Lots of snow balls thrown and angels made. My sister in law Maddi, Sonja and I were inside laughing at their antics. I went into the living room to wheel mom in because I knew she’d love to watch. I stood in the living room mystified by her absence for a good 15 minutes before I figured out why she wasn’t there.
We left to feed the boys lunch, Micah and his clan were to pick up mom’s ashes, then Gramma and 2 of The Aunts (there are 3) were to meet us at the cemetery. The cemetery was cold and very windy. Our sitter fell through so Randy had to stay in the car with the boys. It sounds like they had an interesting conversation about mom, cemeteries, and heaven while I was gone. It was quite a hike the 7 feet or so uphill from the lane to the graveside. They put the carpet over the whole as opposed to on the hill. I was in regular boots, but all the rest of the women were in dress boots. We all surrounded Gramma so she wouldn’t get so cold. There was a wooden pedestal over the green carpet covering the hole. Micah put the small, cardboard box containing mom’s ashes on the pedestal. I expressed a want to see the urn. I saw Judy’s in July, it was nice. I had no need to see the ashes themselves, just the container. Micah said there was no urn, she was just in a smaller box. He didn’t know if it was gold, silver, wood or what. So I said “let’s look”. Micah got out his little pocket knife and we opened the tape on the box. He stood back a little bit, so I could open the box. I opened it and screamed. I don’t know how long I screamed or when I stopped or anything. The Aunts, of course, wanted to know why I was so upset. They asked if I didn’t like the box. There was no box. Just a ziploc type bag, not even water-resistant held closed with a zip tie and a circular gold dog tag looking thing with the number 316 etched into it. Even now, as I type, over a week later, the tears come. I was just so shocked. Had I known it was just her in there, I would have never opened the box. I have no idea what my brother said that afternoon, or how long we were standing there in the cold January wind. I know that when it was over, my uncle prayed and mentioned the adversity mom had to face her whole life and how there was no adversity now. When it was over, someone said that the cemetery people wouldn’t bury mom until we left. The wind was so strong I was scared to leave the box there. So I moved the pedestal and the carpet. Underneath was a 1 x 4 and I moved that too. By this time, my little brother noticed what I was doing. He and the rest of the family asked me to stop, but I was scared mom would blow away in the time it took for us to leave and the cemetery people to come back. I put her little box down into the hole, grabbed as much frozen dirt as I could in dress clothes and frozen hands and put it over her box; prayed, and then I put it all back the way I found it. I couldn’t believe that my family was content to just leave it at that….well, then again, may be I can.
Back at Gramma’s, I was informed that I was to get all of mom’s things. Basically, my siblings didn’t want much of anything and I got the rest. I insisted my sister get the pearls, which she herself bought mom and dad on their 30th wedding anniversary. My brother got a ring which had sentimental value to him. I put most of her clothes away to be donated. I kept some dress clothes, mom was only 5’ 3” so at my 5’ 7” her pants wouldn’t fit me. I kept 2 big bags of cottons to be made into a memory quilt. I have already picked out the centerpiece of the quilt. A red t-shirt with a black and white checkerboard type design on it with red delicious apples. She wore that when she held my firstborn son, Rueben, when he was just 2 weeks old. I brought home all her albums to make bigger ones. I now have all 4 of her grandchildren growing up in pictures. I have her lift chair, which I fought the home so hard to buy for her; and a little tv from her room there. That night, I made a scrapbook of mom’s life from 1986-2006. I had already put one together of 1977-1983. I put a poem in the beginning of the book, and a letter at the end. It was my way of closure. I was up until 2 or 3 the morning of the memorial service making the scrapbook.
I hardly slept the night before. Saturday was the day of the memorial and I was so worried about the extended family and mom’s/Gramma’s friends that would say things to me. They are a COMPLETELY different religion than I am and they all take it personally that I have left. I also knew that the service was what it was; the good byes, the flowers, everything.
I spent a good chunk of the morning finishing the scrapbook at a dear friend’s home. I used her computer to type out the poem and letter and then we had to doctor the scrapbook. I am not a scrapbooker. The original scrapbook I bought didn’t have any paper inside, just the cellophane stuff. Then, the inserts I bought had paper and cellophane, but weren’t the right inserts for the scrapbook. We had to move all the pictures and notes and then cut down the sides. After that we had to paper punch each individual hole to match the book and then use bigger dowels than what came with it to make it stay together.
It took me longer to get ready than anticipated. Dropped the children off at a dear friends and we were off and running. I arrived at the home an hour early. I had the books I brought set up and ready to go. Micah and Maddi arrived shortly afterward. Maddi had used mom’s corkboard from her room, covered it in beautiful blue velveteen fabric and white rick rack and lace. Between the lace and rick rack she had put pictures covering the last 18 years of her life. She even included some photos taken just 6 weeks before her death that were upsetting to see. But, at least she used the most decent ones of the bunch.
People I hadn’t seen since dad died, or even longer started to arrive. Mom’s service was 30 minutes long. Dad’s was an hour and seemed to be only 5 minutes long it flowed so wonderfully. Even though I am a different religion than they are, I never felt uncomfortable during dad’s. The man who did it was a longtime friend of dad’s and talked mostly about dad, his life, accomplishments, blessings, what have you. The guy who did mom’s on the other hand seemed to read a little two or three sentence bio on mom and the rest was religious garbage. Sermon doesn’t even begin to describe. For people that weren’t of the religion there, they were basically told they were doomed if they didn’t know what this guy was talking about. He even lost me on occasion and I was raised with that stuff!!
I was really impressed with my family: immediate, extended, and distant!! Not one person that I was related to treated me any different than my siblings. Some even treated me better! It was nice to see cousins that I haven’t seen since I was pregnant with Mason and we had a little get together. Some weren’t there and I haven’t been to the weddings so it was a nice meet and greet for the new people who have married in. Mom and gramma’s friends on the other hand, must have thought it was their place to judge and criticize me. I had no less than half a dozen women who I spent some time with when I was growing up, decide to come over and have plenty to say to me regarding my life and my beliefs. I even had woman physically grab me one each arm and shake the dickens right out of me. She let me have it with both barrels and let me know that I “needed to do what was necessary to see mom again….change lifestyle….go and confess sin…etc.” A friend of mine, not that religion, came over to say goodbye and this woman, thankfully, let go of me. I had just turned to greet my friend when this woman grabbed me and started all over again!! I said “thank you so much for coming. It was so nice of you to be here with us during our time of mourning. I’m sure I’ll see you again someday. Again, thank you for coming.” I think mom would have been proud. She always said that I had trouble turning the other cheek. My friend was shocked.
Afterwards, we went to Gramma’s and collected the cards and greeting from well-wishers. We decided that with the funds that came in we are going to have our father’s name put on his stone and have a stone made for mother. We doubt they’ll be much left after that, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. There were lots of pictures taken and new floral arrangements made from the flowers that were there.
We even had a late dinner as a family. We haven’t all been somewhere, together, for dinner since 1998 when my sister remarried. My brother and I have both married since then and I’ve had the boys. It was nice. The only drawback was that we were seated at this LONG table and couldn’t have any conversation with the other end of the table. I pointed this out to my brother and he proceeded to YELL down to the other end of the table to see if all those guys were enjoying their food. He’s so funny sometimes. Mom would have laughed.
I had 20-30 people let me know how much I look like mom. The same people also expressed positive feelings that they were glad mom wasn’t suffering anymore. I’m glad too, but it doesn’t take the hurt away. I spent most of the funeral trying not to laugh out loud or to just get up and leave the room. It was exasperating. That being said, I also spent a good chunk of time wondering where mom was because she would have sooo enjoyed the flowers. Strange….sometimes it still feels like she’s still here.
Sunday, early, we had breakfast with 2 of my closest girl friends from my childhood. They were both at the funeral the day before so I had a lot of things to explain as they had a lot of questions about what was said. I hugged them goodbye and we were on the road. We arrived back home about midnight and I stayed up that night…..just thinking. I’ve pretty much been just thinking since.
Fast forward to today, January 13, 2008; the 8th anniversary of dad’s death. I went to church this morning and all were there to hug me and ask how I was doing. I took the funeral brochure my brother’s sister in law had made up for us, we had 200 printed, so people could see the pictures. I’m glad it’s over, but still it feels like it hasn’t happened yet. I wore one of mom’s dress outfits this morning. I put on the shirt and immediately smelled mom. I think that Gramma and Aunt Karna must have kept mom’s dress clothes at their house since non of mom’s regular clothes smelled like her. The home washes everything in Purex, bleach and hot water.
Thank you for reading all this. I know it’s been a lot; but it’s been very therapeutic for me. I’m sure I’ll talk to you all really soon.
~M~
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