Lets go to a funeral (or not)
I've been to two funerals since my dead husbands 20 months ago. The first one was my husbands grandmother who died almost exactly two months after Dan did. She fell shortly after Dan died and broke her pelvis, eventually dying from complications brought on by that. Sometimes I think the shock of Dan's death is the real reason she fell. I was barley functioning but yet baby girl and I got on a plane to Minnesota (That story is worth a blog all by itself). I had to go, I had to be at grandmas funeral, she was our family, Dan should have been there, but he wasn't. It was excruciating to go through that without him.
The second one was my best friends mom. She had cancer. I had known her most of my life, she was like a second mother to me. Her funeral was exactly one year after Dan's funeral. I was determined to be there for my best friend the way she was there for me when Dan died (there's another blog). I tried but I know I fell woefully short. I went home after the funeral and cried and cried, not for my friends mom, but for Dan, because he is supposed to be here for me on days like this.
Other people have died since then. A distant relative, a couple people from our church, my friends dad who I had never meet. One lady from our church I really liked a great deal and I had every intention of going to her funeral. I arranged a baby sitter, I dressed nicely, I left the house in the direction of the church. But I didn't go. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to go to a funeral at our church. Too scared I'd be too reminded of Dan's. I went shopping instead.
At Dan's funeral a couple key friends of his were missing. I asked other friends where they were and I got basically the same reply for both of them. They couldn't do it. It was too hard for them to go to Dan's funeral. At the time I was very angry and said something to the effect of "well not all of us have that luxury" meaning if I his young widowed wife can go to his funeral then everybody else should go as well, no matter how hard it is for you. Part of me still feels that way, but I understand now why people can't bring themselves to go to funerals. Funerals are hard and they bring up memories of other people dying. And some days you just can't muster the courage to go.
Baby girl didn't go to her daddy's funeral. She was there, but I gave her the option of staying with me or playing in the basement with her friends. She chose the latter and I hear it was quite a raucous party going on down there. That's good, Dan would have liked that. I'm sure if he could have planned his own funeral he would have wanted a giant fun party instead of everyone crying their eyes out for him. I guess it's a good thing he didn't get a say. she couldn't handle it, and I didn't expect her to.
What I remember from the funeral of course is choppy, I more remember scenes then how it was chronologically. I don't remember a single thing anyone said. I don't even remember what I said. Just loudness. Chaos.
I remember baby girl and I going to say goodbye to daddy before they closed the casket. She hadn't wanted to yet and I wasn't going to make her but I explained how this was her very last chance to see daddy and she decided she wanted to. I carried her, at 7 1/2 she was too big for me to carry anymore but I carried her. It felt like we were pushing our way though crowds of people. We were, they were trying to get out of the way for us but there was no where for them to go. We got to the casket and we looked at him for just a minute. I said something like say bye to daddy and she put her little hand up and waved and then put her head on my shoulder and I carried her away.
People, people everywhere. The entire sanctuary was full. There were people standing in all available standing space. There were people in both hallways. Someone who is good with numbers estimated there were 400 people there. I have no idea, it was just people everywhere.
People talking to me, I have no idea what they said, giving their condolences, telling me to let them know if I need anything. Stuff. I remember talking to this lady and it seemed like she was going on and on and on. I was just staring at her, trying to figure out who she was, she seemed to know me, but I couldn't place her. Several days later it came to me.
Holding hands. I held hands with Dan's mom up and down the aisle. We squeezed each other so hard I'm a bit surprised we didn't break anything. We were holding each other up with our hands, it was the only thing we could do.
I wrote a book about my grief, you can read it here: Carry on Castle
Comments
Post a Comment