Dad died on Thursday night, three hours after we'd met to make "eventual" funeral arrangements, not realizing how close we were cutting it.
The Visitation was Monday evening, and the Funeral Mass on Tuesday morning.
The Visitation was hardest, with the Funeral Mass coming in a close second. I was usually able to keep it together, but when my mother or my sister broke up then I lost it. And my father's coworkers put together a booklet of memories of working with him, and that small kindness set me off as well.
But there are always good sigest to these things. My old friend Steve from high school showed up to the Visitation. That was good. The fact that he just buried his own mother last Friday, well, that wasn't good. She died of cancer as well.
Keith showed up and had a nice chat with Theresa -- unfortunately I was not able to talk to everyone as much as I would have liked. And Vicki showed up too, which touched me. Vicki and I just worked together for a few months finishing, well, a year ago now, so for her and her husband Kevin to show up was very kind. And Rob showed up too -- we worked together and his folks go to my church, and when they say "Let us know if you need anything," you know that they really mean it.
So everyone was quite kind.
Afterwards I led everyone down to Sherlock's Home for a meal. My mother had expressed a wish to dine there, and when I found out (on the mn.general newsgroup of all places) that it was closing on December 31st, I thought I should make a point to get her down there.
After an initial confusion (I told the staff I wanted reservations for 9:00 and they thought I meant for 9 people), we settled in to a very nice meal. I had the steak and kidney pie -- I'd just had it at Brit's Pub not long ago and I wanted to compare the two. It was excellent -- a little more dry than Brit's, but with a better sauce in which the wine was less prominent.
I also got to try the Plum Pudding, so now I know what that tastes like (a cross between spice cake and bread pudding).
The Funeral Mass the next morning was tough. I thought I had it together but a lot of clues point to my real state of mind: I'd meant to bring a copy of the Star Tribune Online Legacy Guestbook for my mother to read, but I left it on the counter at home. I'd meant to bring a nice note from Cheryl, but I left it at home. And, worst, despite getting everything set up in advance, with box of Kleenex&tm; in the car, I forgot to bring any in with me, and snuffled my way through the service on damp, raggedy used stuff. Bleah!
As usual I was touched to see who showed up. Kevin and Kristin were there, but I apparently missed them. Tim showed up briefly. Steve later, who is fighting his own cancer. And Joe and Victor both came for the Mass itself, which was generous of them.
After the Mass and the lunch we went back to my mother's and sorted through the cards that had been sent, collecting the memorials which we'll send to St. Jude's. But then, after a while, it was time to go, and we left my mother home alone in her house. That was hard to do, but unavoidable.
At home we took fitful naps as best we could, and prepared for a New Year's Eve party at Terry's house -- he's in my writing group. We had a great time there, talking and playing Charades. He's got two great teenaged boys who would be good role models for my own kids -- independent and smart but not sullen or rude. Very nice.
And of course Debbie was there throughout -- a close friend of the family, her support was crucial to our getting through this whole ordeal.
So now we'll bury Dad's ashes at Fort Snelling on Friday, and that will be that. There will be no more steps left in the process. He'll be dead, and buried, and life will go forward without him.
And it will take some time to get used to that fact.