I opened my eyes to the early morning light through the window, dismayed to see that the weather had turned. The last week had been sunny and bright but today had dawned gray and damp. Not rainy, just damp. Ugh. But today was Friday and I was looking forward to seeing my sisters in a couple of hours, and my aunt (AK). Heather was flying in from South Dakota and Emily was flying from Virginia for Dad's funeral, which would be tomorrow. AK was only a half hour away but I hadn't seen her in some time. But first thing, some last minute tidying. I had been cleaning house for a week, a little at a time, my knees dictating how much got done each day. This morning it was all done, and so with a swipe of a dishtowel and the swish of a broom, Ally and I were on our way to pick up AK, and to get back home before the sisters arrived.
Soon they were at the door and we had quite a tearful reunion, and settled in for a good visit. Later in the day I would be picking up the girls from school and then Kat would be heading our way after work, to visit the aunties and to pick up her girls. But first coffee and chit chat, and then deeper conversation about all the goings-on in our worlds.
Ally and I decided breakfast was in order, although it was now noon. So the two of us teamed up together in the kitchen and made scrambled eggs, two kinds of bacon, crisp and cooked for the sane people of the world who like their bacon to have flavor, and the slimy kind of bacon that barely holds together, for those that just like the taste of rubber.
We also had crepes with syrup, along with the never ending cups of coffee.
Later I got the girls from school and the house became a cacophony of noise. Emily was on the piano with Claire, teaching her how to play a song on the piano, which to my great surprise, Clair was actually able to play...on her own, and teach to Arya! I think that was the most amazing discovery of the day, was realizing that Claire had a musical aptitude. AK was doing a little laundry, and in the middle of all of that, the Mr. decided to smoke a huge brisket for dinner. It was an everybody in and out, piano tinkling, dog barking, people talking, door slamming kind of afternoon, and it was great.
Later Kat and Jeff joined and we had eleven people in the dining room munching on brisket, beans, and potato salad. After everyone was absolutely stuffed, the goodbyes began, if only for a few hours. We would see each other again in the morning under much more somber circumstances. Heather and I took AK home. Em and Ken departed for their hotel. Kat and Jeff took the girls home. Then it was just me and Heather, and she was literally falling asleep on her feet, so I made her a bed on the couch and left her to sleep.
I went upstairs and fell asleep, as well. I didn't sleep well. I knew I had a hair appointment in the morning. I was very anxious to get the funeral over with. There were just too many factions and variables in play within our family, and I wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen. I had been worrying about it for weeks. Finally I just went to Jesus in simple prayer. Jesus take the wheel.
And then I felt better.
I woke up early and had coffee with Heather and then we headed off together to the hair place. And then it was time to get dressed. It was kind of like being in a dream. It didn't feel real to be burying my dad. It also felt weirdly like my wedding day. Hair and nails and dress and family all gathered. Only this time, Dad wouldn't be giving me away. I would instead, but giving him to Jesus, in a way. Still grieving, but not as though I wouldn't see him again. Knowing that God had taken him at exactly the right time and that he wasn't suffering anymore. Letting him go, while holding him close, exactly as he had done me, those thirty four years ago.
I was really glad that the weather had let up. It was chilly but partly sunny, and the wind was blowing just a little. It was a beautiful day for a send off. And so many of my very much loved family members were there. Aunts, and uncles, cousins, friends, nieces and nephews that I hadn't seen in years.
There was an awning set up, with a few chairs. Not nearly enough for all of the people that showed to pay their last respects to Daddy. It was standing room only. There was a small podium just outside the front of the tent, and what remained of my father was in the small black box with his name on it. There were multitudes of flowers. I picked up the box, while no one was looking. It was very heavy. I set it gently back down before anyone noticed. I'm sure that was against the rules, but I really didn't care. I placed my flowers, an arrangement I had made myself, with roses Emily bought, and also roses from my own garden, down next to the box.
The service began.
And it was lovely. Nobody acted out. Nobody got nasty. Nothing mean was said. All was calm and peaceful. Heather and I had prayed about it on the way to the hair place earlier in the morning. Our prayer was answered. It was a quiet and lovely service. Heather spoke, and then I got up to speak. I willed myself not to cry and to keep my voice level, and look at my audience as I spoke. None of that happened, of course. As soon as I stepped up my hands began to shake. With my first words my voice cracked and I began to cry. I couldn't look up from the paper I had brought, couldn't meet the eyes of my audience, or I knew I would lose it.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I finished speaking and sat down, and the service was concluded.
We kind of hung around for a bit and were among the last to leave. I decided to take my arrangement home, rather than leave it, as the funeral people told us they were going to throw away what was left.
I hated to leave but I knew I would be back very soon and often.
Lunch followed with the family, and then it was back out into the bright afternoon sun. Goodbyes were said to our much loved family members, and then the three of us sisters were off on our own adventure.
We had decided to have our own little memorial.
It had started as soon as Dad passed. I was there, but I had very little input into the funeral plans. The planners threw out every single idea or suggestion I had. The music, the food place, the obituary information, none of it was used. The music was not music that my dad listened to, at least not that I knew of. I was already a bit upset at this, but trying to give some grace. Then the obituary came out and the picture they chose to use outraged me. I felt it made a mockery of my Dad. He didn't even have his teeth in, and was wearing some kind of doofus hat with a giant pom pom on top. He looked ridiculous, and every single person that saw it said it was a terrible picture.
So we, the three of us were going to have our own send off. With our own music, the music of our childhoods. And I wrote my own obituary, one with a classier looking picture. I didn't ask, and I didn't tell anyone on that side of the family, I just did it.
So the three of us headed for the park, with a cooler full of RC Colas, because that was what my dad used to drink, and a playlist that didn't include any Alan Jackson songs, no offense to Alan, or any of his followers. We had some Marty Robbins and a kite. We walked to the top of a large knoll, put on the music, toasted the RC's to my dad, and tried to fly the kite. And had a glorious time. I say tried because we were completely unsuccessful. We had the tails tangled up in our hair and our legs, and the wind was good, but the kite would not cooperate. Finally, over the horizon, came Em's husband, and he was able to set the kite right. He had put it together for us, but had put the rods in backwards. He was able to get it to fly and it was glorious as I said. We drank our colas, realizing in adult hood, that maybe we didn't love RC as much as our dad had. We drank some and poured the rest out as a libation in remembrance of our dad. We finally let the kite go, watching as it sailed away over our heads...until it crashed in the trees in the field next to the park. I felt kind of guilty about that, but I couldn't get over there to get it. In my head I imagined it would just disappear into the sky, but real life is not like that. Real life is crash and burn and get up and carry on anyway.
So we parted ways, Em went on her way and Heather came home with me. We would get up early in the morning and take her to the airport.
After we did that I had no plans. I was just going to take a nap. However, as soon as my Pjs were on and I was comfortable melded to my recliner, Ally came in and unexpectedly needed a ride back to college. I sighed and got redressed and headed out the door for the half hour back to Sherman. On the way I decided I would not go back home. I would drive over to the grave yard and have a visit with dad. I waved bye to her and in no time was on my way to the cemetery, which is only about ten minutes from her dorm. The day was lovely. Eighty degrees and sunny. Wind strongly blowing. As I entered the cemetery I could see that I was the only one within a mile. Nobody was at the church. There were no cars. No people. No noise. I parked the car and walked the short distance and sat down by the gravesite. The flowers were still fresh. There was utter silence as I sat there, other than the birds and the wind in my ears. I was fully at ease as I sat there, completely alone in the middle of the graveyard. It was just me and dad and Jesus. Although, I realize of course, theologically, that Dad was not there. But his body was and that was enough for me. I closed my eyes and felt the sun on my face. Felt the wind. Heard the birds. I stayed there a long time, maybe twenty five minutes, not moving. Just touching the flowers, and brushing off the headstone. Picking away the weeds. And enjoying the peace.
I wanted to take the rest of the flowers, but I didn't quite dare. The large vase that had been left was partially buried by the funeral people, to keep it from falling over in the wind. I wanted to take that, too, but a car came down the single lane and I was parked in the road, so I decided to wait 'til later in the week. If they truly are going to throw all the leftovers away, I will rescue the vase. I left feeling much better than when I had come.
Then I went home and had that long awaited nap.
And woke up feeling so much better than I had felt in a long while.
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