Part of the process of processing is letting your mind relax. Stop thinking about the ‘business’ side of life. Which, in essence, is what I had been doing with my mother for three years. Getting her to dialysis, doctors, her meds, making sure she’s eating (or not eating) what she is supposed to, running errands, all while working full-time. I admit I was rather pleased when I was laid off. Driving daily from Cedar Lake, into Joliet, Ill during this time was crazy. And now that she was gone, there was still ‘business’ to take care of.
When Tony asked me how I got through the funeral, I told him I cried, it was hard, blah, blah, blah, and so my homework was to ‘go-through-the-funeral’. I knew what he meant of course. And so, off I went.
I spent some time at the funeral home, in the room where she was laid. Carrie, one of the funeral directors, had questions about my homework, but then thought it was an interesting assignment.
I sat on the couch up front. I vaguely remember who was there, but a few I do. A friend from high-school who I was excited for Jess to meet, mom’s Santa to her Mrs. Claus, my friends from church, the ‘friend’ whom I mentioned earlier who had sent me an email 3 days before my mom passed severing ties.I was half surprised to see them, but now I had to deal with it. Referring them to my sister with questions. My other friend who also cut ties with me that night, Sandy, whom I will speak of more later.
I stopped myself from feeling those emotions. I had to force myself to focus on mom in the casket. Tears formed in my eyes. Emptiness filled me along with a sorrow that took my breath away. There was nothing to distract me from what I was feeling and I let it be. I cried and it was healing but I knew I wasn’t done.
I headed to the church, taking what I remembered to be the same route (it had been two years by this time), sat in an empty church in the first pew and imagined the draped casket. I didn’t remember most of what was said or sung, but I did remember the Gospel. It was John 14 “In my Father’s house there are many mansions…” and I wondered if she was in one of them and I asked God. That was also the same Gospel that was read at my late husband’s funeral. I slowly walked out of church and headed to mom’s final resting place.
At the cemetery, I took a picture of her stone, put some flowers by it, bowed my head and wept. I told her I missed her. I loved her. I was not okay. I needed her. And I was not as strong as I thought. I let the breeze blow through me, my hair was long at time and all over the place, and I felt someone behind me. My parent’s plots are right off the road. I park my car and there is little space between the car and the stones, so I knew there was no one there, at least physically. I remember feeling an odd sense of peace. When I looked up, things just seemed prettier. I felt calmer. I whispered thank you. And I knew I just got through mom’s funeral.
Next week: Prince’s death
Until Next Time…
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