Watching: The Shop Around the Corner with Mom. She had recently seen You've Got Mail, but I told her she had to see the original (and superior) movie, as well.

Background courtesy of
Ace of Space

The Funeral and Afterward

This morning, my mother-in-law was on time once again, even though it meant she had to get up at an earlier time than she usually does. Stephanie stayed here this morning to watch Stephen and Matthew while Mom, Tab, Daniel, and I went to the funeral.

The funeral home was a much more somber place than it had been last night. Many of us were crying as we prepared to say goodbye to Nana. In the background, quiet flute music played. I asked my aunt Rita what it was. "James Galway's Irish medley," she answered. Nana always loved James Galway and anything Irish.

My uncle Jim approached my mother. "When they call for Mom's children, I'd like you to remain with us," he told her. "You were always like a daughter to her."

After a little while, the funeral director asked first for friends, neighbors, and extended relatives to pay their final respects. Then they were asked to find a seat in the adjoining room. Next he called for us grandchildren and our families, and finally, Nana's children.

When we were all seated in the adjoining room, the funeral director closed the dividers between the rooms. I guess they don't want you to see them closing up the casket. I can imagine the sight would be hard for many people to handle. The funeral director then asked for the pallbearers to come with him. Tab is a pallbearer for Nana. He has had so many older relatives and neighbors die that we have half jokingly said he should buy his own pair of cotton gloves for pallbearing duties.

Mom commented how smoothly the funeral director ran everything. "I guess they have it down to a system," I said, inanely. But I suppose it makes sense for the funeral director to shepherd the mourners through a process. It means we don't have to think much at a time when thoughts seem frozen in our heads.

Everything was arranged by the funeral director, even the order of the cars on the way to the funeral Mass. When we went outside, we found the grandchildren's cars were already lined up by order of birth, which put our car directly behind the limousine that carried Nana's children. In front of the limo was the hearse, and leading the procession was the flower car.

At the church, Mom was happy to see her sister and brother-in-law, M.L. and Al, and their daughter Mary Clare, who had driven up from Virginia for the funeral. Mom's brother, Ricky, who lives in Pennsylvania, was also there. When my mother and father were dating, my mother's family became very close with my father's family. My mother's mother had died many years before, so Nana became a kind of mother to my young uncles, Ricky and Drew. Ricky, a teenager at the time, also dated one of my father's younger sisters. And my aunt M.L. chose Nana to be Mary Clare's godmother.

The funeral Mass was simple. My cousin Jason did one of the readings. He held himself together throughout the reading, but burst into tears after he returned to his seat. Our cousin Wendy, who was sitting behind him, comforted him, but later broke down in sobs herself when the Ave Maria was sung. Nana always loved the Ave Maria, and when Wendy got married last year, she had it sung at her wedding especially for Nana.

The subject of the priest's sermon was about dealing with grief by remembering the ways in which Nana had touched us all. It was obviously a boilerplate sermon for funeral Masses; when he spoke of Nana it was in very general terms that could have been applied to any mother and grandmother.

That is why I was happy to have the chance to speak at the end: so that someone who loved Nana could say something specific about her, and why she was so special. I had decided to read the letter I wrote Nana two years ago. Before I was called up, I hoped I could read it without breaking down.

Finally, the time came. My voice was full of tears, and the last paragraph blurred before my eyes, but I did get through it. Even though the letter details my own experiences and feelings for Nana, after the funeral many of my cousins and others who loved Nana told me that it spoke for them, too.

After the short graveside service, we returned to our house to change and pick up the twins; then we went to my Aunt Sheila's house. In Tab's family, everyone usually goes to a restaurant after funerals, but in our family it is customary to go to someone's house. Bill, Nana's next-door neighbor for many years, had generously provided a huge platter of deli meats and cheeses. Fortunately, it was a beautiful, sunny day, so we could all spill out into the backyard where the kids ran around like deranged creatures.

Even under the circumstances, I enjoyed getting to visit with my relatives. With Nana's decline, family gatherings have been few and far between. I wonder how much we will all see each other now that she is gone. She was the matriarch of the family.

Mom discussed her travel arrangements with Dad and Bunny, who are taking her back to Maine with them tomorrow. They are leaving at 4:30 tomorrow morning and stopping briefly in Scarborough, Maine, on the way to see Bunny's mother.

"Charles doesn't know how he's going to explain this to my mother," Bunny told Mom.

"I think I'll just stay in the car," Dad joked.

"Just tell them I'm a friend," suggested Mom.

"Or a hitchhiker," Bunny said. "A hitchhiker who just happens to be going to Skowhegan."

After everyone had eaten lunch, the adults trooped in to watch the video Tab had put together. The total running time was about 45 minutes long, and most of the scenes were shot in the early 90s, just after Rita bought her videocamera. There was Nana as I best remember her: dynamic, active, and humorous. I'd forgotten just how funny she could be.

One part of the video made us all laugh with surprise: for some reason Nana was discussing death and commented, "I just want to wake up some morning and find myself dead." I'm glad she had her wish.

previous       index       e-mail me       next