(no subject)
funeral
I have a major case of funeral trauma. I have been to some horrific funerals, and my general policy has been: NEVER AGAIN. I am not even going to show up for my own funeral, because I don't intend to have one. Today, out of respect for my mother's wishes, I drove her to my cousin's funeral. Or as is commonly said these days "celebration of her life". When we got to the church we were ushered to sit with her parents and her brother. She has two brothers, but I only saw one there.
This was my mantra: NO GOING TO CRY NOT GOING TO CRY NOT NOT NOT GOING TO CRY. Tears streamed down my face like I was my own personal river. The really hard part was that I was standing and sitting next to her brother (it was a Catholic Church and they get up and down a lot) and when he would sing songs that essentially were about telling her good-bye, or when her husband played violin with the choir..... well, it just got to me.
There was an entire church full of people there- I would guess about 400 people. If I died tomorrow there wouldn't even be a tenth that many who would show up for my funeral if there was one to show up for. I didn't know my cousin had known that many people, that she was important to that many people.
There was a lunch gathering afterward, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to cry through talking to people at a luncheon. Best I go home. I ran into my Aunt Betty, her mother, in the restroom as fate would have it. She reminded me that when Linda was dying that her father bent over her bed to kiss her and he was crying so much that his tears made a puddle in her ear. "Let it all out dad," she said. "Let it all out."
My cousin struggled with and fought cancer for five years. She was a nurse practitioner, and a lot of her nurse friends would come and care for her and visit with her. Finally, quite recently, one of the nurse friends quite truthfully told her: "We're tired of watching you suffer." Reportedly she said, "I'm tired of it too."
My children really do not know Linda and that part of the family. When I was growing up they were around quite regularly, but it was the grandmothers who brought everyone together. When Linda and I grew up (she was 3 years younger than I am) we didn't really stay in touch. In the last couple of decades I have actually been much closer to her parents. It is sad my children do not remember her. She was a good person.
I have a major case of funeral trauma. I have been to some horrific funerals, and my general policy has been: NEVER AGAIN. I am not even going to show up for my own funeral, because I don't intend to have one. Today, out of respect for my mother's wishes, I drove her to my cousin's funeral. Or as is commonly said these days "celebration of her life". When we got to the church we were ushered to sit with her parents and her brother. She has two brothers, but I only saw one there.
This was my mantra: NO GOING TO CRY NOT GOING TO CRY NOT NOT NOT GOING TO CRY. Tears streamed down my face like I was my own personal river. The really hard part was that I was standing and sitting next to her brother (it was a Catholic Church and they get up and down a lot) and when he would sing songs that essentially were about telling her good-bye, or when her husband played violin with the choir..... well, it just got to me.
There was an entire church full of people there- I would guess about 400 people. If I died tomorrow there wouldn't even be a tenth that many who would show up for my funeral if there was one to show up for. I didn't know my cousin had known that many people, that she was important to that many people.
There was a lunch gathering afterward, but I couldn't do it. I didn't want to cry through talking to people at a luncheon. Best I go home. I ran into my Aunt Betty, her mother, in the restroom as fate would have it. She reminded me that when Linda was dying that her father bent over her bed to kiss her and he was crying so much that his tears made a puddle in her ear. "Let it all out dad," she said. "Let it all out."
My cousin struggled with and fought cancer for five years. She was a nurse practitioner, and a lot of her nurse friends would come and care for her and visit with her. Finally, quite recently, one of the nurse friends quite truthfully told her: "We're tired of watching you suffer." Reportedly she said, "I'm tired of it too."
My children really do not know Linda and that part of the family. When I was growing up they were around quite regularly, but it was the grandmothers who brought everyone together. When Linda and I grew up (she was 3 years younger than I am) we didn't really stay in touch. In the last couple of decades I have actually been much closer to her parents. It is sad my children do not remember her. She was a good person.