13 posts tagged “death”

This weekend I was supposed to meet-up with some girlfriends in Birmingham. I didn't go because I couldn't afford the trip. Now I desperately wish I had. Then I wouldn't have been here yesterday. I wouldn't have gone to the funeral. I could've lived the rest of my life not knowing.

I know you are probably thinking, "Geez, this is someone you haven't seen in years. You don't keep in touch with his daughter. All right already."

I grew up with very few men in my life. He was one of them. He was a good man in my life when I needed a father figure. He was always kind and loving and safe. He is one of the many people along my life path who helped make me who I am today.

I thought I would feel better today. That a good night's sleep would reset everything. But I keep hearing the minister say in a deep, booming voice, So take a good look at my face (dramatic pause), you'll see my smile looks out of place (another dramatic pause), if you look closer it's easy to trace, the tracks of my tears. At that moment, it felt like a kick in the gut. The confirmation of my disbelief. You'll see my smile looks out of place. I remember lots of giggles in his house. It makes me sad that this man who brought so much happiness to others had no joy in his own heart. Five children. Four grandchildren. 30+ years of students who adored him. And so much despair.

It was a different kind of funeral. A closed casket. I thought it odd that he died nine days ago. Then I noticed who wasn't there. His wife. Three of his five children. As the service went on, as his friends eulogized him, I kept thinking, Nooo... And then the minister spoke these lyrics:

So take a good look at my face
You'll see my smile looks out of place
If you look closer, it's easy to trace
The tracks of my tears.

That's when I knew for sure. This man that I adored. He had killed himself.

The father of my best friend in elementary school died this week. The services are today. I’m going, even though I’m certain I’ve not seen his daughter in 25 years. But I do remember those times. And how great I thought her dad was.

Back then, she and I liked the same boy. And today is his birthday.

All in all, I'm feeling a little melancholy today.

Yesterday my Aunt Patsy, mom's only sister, learned she is in Stage 3 Kidney Failure. She's two "points" away from Stage 4. Stage 5 is dialysis. Then one of two things happens. You get a kidney transplant or you die.

Yesterday was a blah day for me. And I didn’t figure out why until this morning.

Gina died one year ago yesterday.

And I knew that. Kept talking about it beforehand. Thought I’d go to the cemetery. Yet, the day passed with me mostly in bed. Napping or reading. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so lousy.

Mom and I talked on Sunday that for it to be a whole year seems impossible. That it actually seems much longer. But that’s because for us, she left long before her body did.

I’ve not seen my Godfather for a year now. And I have no plans to see or talk to him either. Yes, I told mom that I know I’m only hurting myself for hanging on to that anger. At him for leaving her in that hellhole. I’m sure there are worse nursing homes she could’ve been in, but not by much.

And you know what? I don’t like him. I haven’t for a long time. His racist, sexist "jokes" and stories. His need to be right (even if he isn’t) and to be the center of attention. So when I told mom that we probably would’ve dumped him long ago if it weren’t for Gina, she had to agree.

We talked about how we still miss her. How we catch ourselves thinking of picking her up to "go running" with us. I probably don’t do it as much as mom does, but it’s still painful when it happens.

I went back this morning and re-read that week last year. It brought tears to my eyes to remember:

As the minister said, she is in heaven now, talking up a storm. Catching up on all the things she had to say these past few years. And when she is finished, she will pick up her brush and paint again, using the heavens as her canvass.

I've always known that I would donate my organs and be cremated. I've never really given much thought as to what to do after that. I think I figured it out: Eternal Reefs.

An Eternal Reefs "Memorial Reef" is a designed reef made of environmentally safe cast concrete that is used to create new marine habitats for fish and other forms of sea life. Eternal Reefs takes the cremated remains or "cremains" of an individual and incorporates them into an environmentally safe cement mixture designed to create artificial reef formations. The memorial reefs are taken to a curing area and then placed in the permitted ocean location selected by the individual, friend or family member.

For families and individuals that choose cremation rather than burial, Eternal Reefs offers a new memorial option that replaces cremation urns and ash scattering with a permanent environmental living legacy. Expected to last 500 years, over 300 Memorial Reefs have been placed off the coasts of Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, Maryland, New Jersey, Texas and Virginia.

I mean really, how cool would that be?

As far as funerals go, my Godmother's was one of the best I have ever been to. Her minister sat with us last night and listened to us tell stories. He did a fine job of gleaning information about her and incorporating it into a true tribute to her life. He truly captured her spirit (Feisty!).

There were some hard moments for mom. Especially when they closed the casket. But the service was so full of life, a true celebration of her. It was easy to laugh remembering the stories he shared, even though the difficult memories of these last few years will always linger.

I am waiting for the dam to crack. I've not lost it yet. I've shed some tears, but not cried. It sounds awful, but I am truly glad she is gone. She was so undeserving of the final years of her life. She was such a good woman. It was just not fair.

As the minister said, she is in heaven now, talking up a storm. Catching up on all the things she had to say these past few years. And when she is finished, she will pick up her brush and paint again, using the heavens as her canvass.

Tonight is the viewing. The room she is in is tiny. I know this because I just came from there. She was still cold. She looked like herself though. Peachy lipstick, no hairy upper lip, not a lot of makeup, hair curled nicely.

The viewing doesn't start till 7:30p, which is too late if you ask me. Too late for their elderly church crowd (they're all about the same age). 6-7:30p would've been better. When there's still daylight to drive by. The funeral is at 9a tomorrow. Followed by a burial in a local military cemetery.

My Godfather said one of his sons asked if we would ride in the limo with them. My brother is coming tonight (oh, joy), so we'll just go together in my car. I took it to the car wash just for the occasion. I'm sure the son would like the company. It will be odd with the three of them alone. Maybe if it seats six.

Godparents

Tonight I picked out the outfit my Godmother will be buried in.

My Godfather asked my mom, who asked me what I thought she should pick. I'll go with you. I knew exactly what I wanted her to wear. A dress set she always looked so nice in.

But it wasn't there. Her wardrobe has been butchered. By her, by him, I don't know. Suits with no skirt, tops with no matching bottoms. Dirty clothes.

I finally settled on a blouse I recognized and a red skirt. I hope they tuck the blouse in around her or she'll get lost in it. I added a small pair of earrings to which my Godfather said, "I'd have never thought you put jewelry on a dead person."

Well, I do. And I will call tomorrow to make sure they shave her lip. And I will arrive early at the viewing to make sure she looks ok. That her lipstick is a good color and her hair is done right. That she looks like herself.