Interred

160507 Flag

After what seemed like endless delays, or problems, we finally got my father into the ground yesterday afternoon.  The North Cemetery is plagued with insects – this time of year black flies but instead it rained.  I had the yard fogger with me and the bug spray in my pocket just in case.

I’ve gone to many, many funerals.  Leading up to this I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said to people that they are for the living.  I always go to show my support to people I care about in a time of great sadness.  Until yesterday I probably never truly realized what an impact the simple act of showing up can have.

This was one of those life flashing before your eyes moments. My best of friends were all there, from kindergarten until now.  People that have all held a significant piece of my life, people I truly love.

The service was rendered beautifully by a minister I’ve known since my early teens, one who I consider a good friend as well.

The military honor guard did their part in sending Dad off the way he wanted.  Taps being played was the only real request Dad had.  The flag was presented to my by a man who had worked with him at Westover.

It’s interesting the variation in rituals there are from place to place.  In more urban areas after a funeral everyone goes to a public place for food and drink.  Up here everyone goes to a family members home.  When I arrived a good friend immediately said what do you need to have done and she and her husband set out he food.  People arrived, helped themselves to food set out or found what they needed in the fridge.  That’s when you know you have people comfortable in your home – they help themselves.

From arrival to the last person leaving the rest is a blur – as I knew it would be recalling the same situation when my mother died 17 years ago.  These are the things you don’t forget.

All in all I did right by my father through the whole mess and the bonus was yesterday felt like a huge community group hug.  Thank you all.

True to Form

160407 Cemetery Rd

This is the road to the North Cemetery this morning.  There’s about six inches of snow still on the cemetery as well.  Nothing is simple.

We have gone back and forth about where to have my father’s memorial service since yesterday.  You see, even if all of this melts the frost is still coming out of the ground and it will all turn into one huge mud hole.

We were going to have the service here at the house, which would have worked but I got a message from my sister-in-law this morning that my brother would not be able to attend.  He’s been in Greenland with the Air Force and his plane was broken and wouldn’t be repaired until Sunday at the earliest.

After a couple of “are you freakin’ kidding me” moments I started to take this as a clear sign that rescheduling would be the best plan.  I made a couple of phone calls, messaged the players that needed to be here and the day has been moved to May 7th at 2:00.

The funeral home has rescheduled the Air Force honor guard. I’m trying contact as many of those that were planning to go as I can.  Funerals are a funny thing in that you never know who is going to show up.  I’ll be here for those that miss the message and make the trip up – there will be coffee, tea and cookies as well as good conversation.

My mother died over 25 years ago and talking about death has come easy for us since – there’s nothing worse than not know what a person has imagined as their send off.  A couple of days before my dad’s death I was walking by his bed and he said “Remind me to tell you where the million dollars is buried.” I said, “What did you do? Rob a bank?”  His reply, “That’s neither here nor there.” I went into the kitchen to get him a little fruit and when I returned he told me it was buried in the cemetery.  He was talking about my mom and what she was worth to him.  The amount had changed to 10 million at that point.  He then went through the funeral plan to the letter – the honor guard, and taps. “That always gets me” he said a little choked up.

As I considered what we were going to have to do as a work around because of mud I realized that it wouldn’t be anything like what he envisioned.  I also felt as though I was getting a very clear message from him to just do it another day so it was right.

Our friend Jim, who takes care of the cemeteries and digs all of the graves has talked to me a lot in the past couple of days.  Telling me conditions, asking me if I was sure I shouldn’t reschedule, laughing about things he knew my father would have found funny.  They were long time friends.  When I called to tell him we were rescheduling he told me my dad had spoken to me.  I felt that was true.  He then reminded me that instead of telling people to wear boots they should be bringing a lot of bug spray. Just the thing I was trying to avoid.