On this date 5 years ago we held the funeral services for our sweet Diane. It was a surreal time in which I moved through this dream with very slow deliberate steps. My internal mechanism had kicked in and I was carefully maneuvering my actions and making sure that I allowed myself the appropriate grief and that I allowed others to share it with me. Funerary rituals are often decried, but I believe that they are necessary in order to release the pressure valve of sadness so we do not explode emotionally. Different folk accomplish this in different ways. The Vikings sent the departed off to sea in a fiery vessel. Some American Indians do not even speak the name of their dead in so that their spirit would not be earthbound and allowed to move forward. Some cultures drape pictures of the deceased and others rend their clothing in order to express their grief.
I was raised going to funerals. I actually remember being lifted up so I could view the body of the deceased for one last look. I also remember that it was not only a sad time, but a happy time as well. Stories are shared about the individual and you ATE! Funeral ham is mighty fine! Everyone showed off with their signature casseroles or desserts. I am a descendant of a hardy stock of people from the hills of northern Arkansas and southern Missouri. The distant Irish, German and Welsh genes still run deep in my people and, even though they don't realize it, it plays a large role as far as behavior and tradition in important events.
I digress. Diane went on hospice for only a day before she died. I refused to believe that we were this close to the end of the journey. Thanks to two very kind doctors who spoke to me at midnight two days before I was able to to be slapped into reality. I signed the appropriate papers, talked to the girls, talked to Diane's beloved cousins and began to mentally prepare myself. Once the process began the wheels started turning. I stepped back, let it happen and began to plan. My heritage took hold and I started to consider how we could honor this lovely and extraordinary lady.
I said to someone very recently who had stated that they could never sing or speak at a funeral service for someone very close to them. I know for some this would be very difficult. However, my thought is that if you do not, you will not have the opportunity to make sure the right things are said. I have been to many funerals in which it was obvious that the one eulogizing did not actually know the person very well. That happened at my father's funeral and I swore it would not happen again. I have been asked and given several eulogies over the years for close family members. I was determined that I would be the one to speak. Our daughter, Melissa, spoke as well and both our daughters, Melissa and Pam, sang the Pie Jesu from the Weber Requiem. Our dear friend, Bob Gross, an Episcopal priest, conducted the service. Several of Melissa's singer friends flew in from NYC and Philadelphia and sang. Katie Lacie and Indra Thomas sang His Eye is on the Sparrow and it was exquisite. Our good friend, Rick McDole, played the piano and accompanied everyone. Our buddy, Dov Kupfer, did the flowers and dear friend, Helen Mott, arranged a wonderful luncheon after the service. Do you see the thread? They were all family and good friends. They all knew and loved Diane and used their talents to insure that proper homage was paid. It was glorious.
And then it got cold. There were snowflakes falling as we left the church and the temperatures were plummeting. Hasty farewells were given to out of town guests who were scurrying to leave before the roads became impassable. Some were caught in the storm and what should have been a one day trip became two or three. The entire state of New Mexico and Texas was caught in the grip of one of the worst cold snaps in years. El Paso, along with many other cities, had pipes bursting and lost power. Our east coast singers could not leave because the airport was shut down. We moved them all in with us, lit candles and hunkered down together.
It was as if Diane's death had sucked all the warmth out of the atmosphere. We shivered with grief and also laughed at our predicament. It became an adventure.
As I write this I am looking out my bedroom window. A windy cold front has moved into town. There are small raindrops peppering the panes and it is as if the weather spirits are helping me remember that day five years ago. I am going to allow myself to remember today. Why? Because I know that not long from now the warmth will return and the moisture will allow the rebirth of the green and flowers that Diane loved so well. I don't think I need to belabor the analogy.
…and then it got cold. However, it did not linger.
No comments:
Post a Comment