nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Services and funeral

As the week went on, I got progressively worse in my handling of my grief. Wednesday night I had dreams of walking through the catacombs beneath France, only to come across not the bones but actual pieces of my Grams strewn throughout the walls. I didn't sleep well that night.
By Thursday, I was having random bouts of tears, instigated by things as silly as a song on the radio or a memory.
I know that some of it was caused by the elongated period between Grams' death and her services. It's hard to hold one's grief so closely for such a period of time. Really. Not that grief and pain ever go away completely but it's difficult to just stick it on ice, to be experienced later in the week.
Calling hours brought hordes of people. Not only did I see the nearly 100 members of my immediate family, but I met people who'd worked with my Grams, girls touched by her efforts in the Girl Scouts, and assorted friends from every walk of life. It was eye-opening for me, just how much impact my Grams had on the community-at-large. The boys looked so handsome in their ties, almost all grown up. They didn't stay for the entire length, just about an hour. Then they went home with my mother. (I didn't have anyone else to ask. Most of the family I have had babysit were from the same side as my Grams.) Thankfully, they did fine. There weren't any problems and no drinking. I think my mother might be growing up!
Ironically, my mother and my father were in the same room for the first time since I can remember and they actually spoke to one another with no animosity. I was floored.
I kept it together, for the most part. Little "cloudbursts" here and there. That is, until it came time to leave. I couldn't handle the thought of leaving her there. Now, realistically, I know that it's her body. I know that she's not there and inside it anymore. That doesn't make the image of my Grams being left in the dark, with no one with her, any easier. I hated the thought of my Grams cold and alone.
It took me a good fifteen minutes to pull myself together enough to be able to drive, to be able to be with my boys.
I put them to bed and wrote out the words I would speak at my Grams' funeral.
Today dawned with the most crystalline blue skies, polka-dotted with incredibly fluffy clouds. It was cold and carried a little brisk breeze with it but nothing too intolerable.
Grams' funeral service was a full on Catholic funeral mass. It was beautiful and touching and painful. My Grams would have loved it. There's someting incredible about witnessing a Catholic mass. The ritual is intricate and something that just stays with you. Because it was a Catholic service, there wasn't the typical speaking by relatives, etc. That was to be done later, at a meal served after the burial---a time to share our thoughts and memories.
Through most of the ceremony, I sat next to ThatCousin, listening and praying and enduring what my uncle calls the "Catholic health spa". Stand, kneel, stand, sit, stand, sit, stand, kneel (not necessarily in that order). We both teared up at times, usually in response to a hymn or a prayer. And I think we both had nailprints imprinted in our palms (having clasped hands) when they wheeled my Grams out of her church for the final time.
The cemetery Grams chose ages ago is set in a small town, just outside ours, and is quaint and tiny. It was crowded with all of us, our family stretching the confines of it's tarnished metal fencing. The graveside service was short and sweet and we all turned to go. Again, it's the leaving that gets me. I couldn't handle leaving my Grams alone, to be lowered into an earthy hole, where there wasn't anyone to love her or care for her. I couldn't handle the knowledge that I would never see her face again, that I'd forever be left with only pictures and memories of a woman who was larger than life and such an integral part of mine.
I sat in my van and sobbed until I couldn't breathe. I don't think I have tears left in my body. My head hurt and my stomach was a mess and worse...my heart felt like someone had ripped a huge chunk away and tossed it into the ground with my Grams.
I forgot how hard it is to really and truly say goodbye.
I know, down deep, that my Grams is in heaven. I know that she's without pain now, without the hindrances of broken bones, wheelchair and escaping memory. I know that she lived a long and fulfilling life and that she was loved and loved back with everything inside her. I am comforted by the knowledge that as long as we carry her in our hearts, she's never truly gone.
It's just not so easy to accept the physical absence. I'm working on that part.
The dinner after was nice. Seeing all of my family gathered was awe-inspiring. I truly have a huge family and it's amazing to see us all together.
I spoke and I'll post those words tomorrow. I made my Grams proud---hardly a dry eye in the hall. I was successful in my sharing of things that were near and dear to us all.
The food was done by the ladies that my Grams, ironically, used to work with---the church's funeral committee. And it was lovely.
My second cousin received a phone call while we were all congregated, on her cell phone. My great uncle's wife (the wife of my Grams' brother) had passed away. Today.
I won't be attending that one. They lived out of state and I'm not sure even where they'll be holding it. I'll send flowers and my thoughts and prayers. Hopefully, that'll be enough.
I've found some peace tonight. I spent some time with my Gramps. He's handling it okay and horribly, in turns. I can understand that, I think. He's spent nearly 54 yrs. with my Grams. I can only imagine the depths of his loss.
I'm trying not to add to that grief and that has helped. Settling back into my role of caretaker has helped.
***
More tomorrow.
N.

8:58 p.m. - 2006-03-18

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