Posted by
AudiR10TDI on Wednesday, October 22, 2008 7:20:10 AM
October 21, 2008 -- On October 7, 2008, Mama phoned me at work. It was 10:15 a.m. Mama said, *Its me, your Mama* as she always did, and I said as always the Hill Street Blues line, *Hi Ma.* She took a deep breath and said *Your father has passed.* The nurse at Francis House had checked on him when she started her early morning shift, and when she came back in half an hour, St. Michael had passed through and escorted him to Eternity. (And stopped at the room next door to gather up a young woman named Sheena, aged 32, who was ready to go as well.)
I am back home from two weeks of exhausting labour and kind of glad to have nobody at home to talk to but the cat, at least for a little while.
I phoned my sister in Florida and they got on the road; I phoned HR and went to coffee with my boss and caught my breath a little bit. By 4:00 p.m. I was on the bus to Niagara Falls where I met my friend and brother Tom and we went to his house just across the border to spend the night; by 10:30 a.m. the next day we were greeting Mama and my sister at the door. From then on it was a steady processing of arrivals -- my sister from Atlanta and her daughter, my two boys, Jack and Linda from Florida, my sisters and their children and grandchildren from the neighbourhood, and a whirl of activity that kept most of us from thinking too much about why we were gathered there...Mama fussing about what to wear and me talking to the Chaplain about what to say, and sorting out the pallbearers (one brother in law unexpectedly passed his station over to his daughters fiance, which made a brief wave as thinking was it should have been handed to the husband of a niece (who is an Arab and whom that brother in law does not trust as far as he can throw the Statue of Liberty) and finally, at 9:30 a.m., gathering for visitation at the nice, quiet funeral home and for those who wished, viewing. Daddys coffin was draped with an American flag, which he would have (and probably did) approved. We were invited to speak during the service and two of my sisters got up to say a few brief words. I got up and told the very funny story about how Daddy the Hot Rod taught me to drive and how he Put One Over on the poor man who had to examine a 17 year old girl in a NA$CAR prototype on city streets in New York in the morning. That is Daddys favourite story and he told it regularly for 45 years. (I was 25 before I got a license, on an old Studebaker Lark VI, in California.) People came up to tell me how much they enjoyed the story, and I was reassured about telling a funny story at a funeral. But Daddy believed implicitly that he would be going to Glory, and he had been ill for so long that I am sure he was relieved and pleased to see St. Michael relieve him of that great burden.
From there we went to the cemetery, Onandaga County Veterans Memorial, for a brief military service including the presentation of the folded flag to Mama *with the thanks of a grateful nation* which would have burst Daddys buttons with pride. With the playing of Taps we headed for the reception,spent an hour or two greeting people, and went back home. Linda and Jack, Tom, and the kids all went home on Saturday. Sunday Mama and I went to church and otherwise we had a day of rest. Then we had to start packing for her to leave that apartment. (This part had been mishandled by my sisters, whom I had assumed wrongly would have accompanied Mama to the office to see that she did not just tell them she was not renewing her lease but also would have said she was going month to month until she had somewhere to move to. Alas.) I also made the phone calls necessary, set up appointments, cancelled services, and saw that Mama ate, slept, and had time to talk if she wanted to. The others came to take things to the storage unit and to the home of the sister where Mama was going to stay until her place was available in December. A visit was made to Francis House so the youngest sister could meet those who were caring for Daddy in his last two months, and there was a brief spat when the sister where we would be staying after we moved out of the apartment admitted she had invited her children to visit that weekend to attend a baby shower (of all things) and therefore Mama and I would have temporary beds in the basement. (Fortunately cooler heads prevailed and the children did not stay overnight, so Mama could begin to settle into the guest room where she would be living; she was also allowed to bring her dresser instead of putting her clothes in the entertainment centre in transparent shelves and living out of her suitcase.) Somehow everything was done; the truck rental was accomplished with minimal disruption -- nobody remembered to do it until Thursday -- and enough men showed up to get it done in 3 hours. We then retired to watch the Alabama/Ole Miss game and Mama went to bed at 8:00 p.m. and I went soon afterwards and Sunday afternoon I went home. (The one Amtrak train to Toronto broke down in Albany so I leaped onboard a bus instead and ended up getting home cheaper and quicker than on the train anyway.)
When I got to work I found that nobody knew I had suffered a loss at all -- only the deaths of family members of lawyers are eulogized in that firm -- so I sent out my own notice, as I needed the consolation of my colleagues and the slack -- and also because it is not my Daddys fault that his daughter is only a peon and he is just as worthy as the father of a lawyer to be recognized. Many people agreed that this policy is an outrage. Just when you think you have learned everything about socialism, you get reminded that there is a big divide between the Nomenklatura and the Proletariat after all, and the Apparatchiks make the policy. (Grima Wormtongue anybody?)
Now I am left to sort out my feelings and thoughts about my Daddy whom I loved and miss greatly. That eulogy will follow whn I have gathered my feelings and thoughts together.
Enjoy yourself in Heaven, Daddy. We will see you again one day there.