It is not a cliché to say that a person is in a complete
daze the first week following a shattering loss. The horrible thing about being in this daze is that you are
still forced to make life long, non-reversible decisions such as cremation or
burial, open casket or closed, whether or not Nathan should be allowed to see
his Dad one last time, Catholic mass or not, reading selections, music
selections, pallbearer selection, etc.
On my best day, I would struggle with trying to make these decisions and
here I was having to make them in a state of shock and sadness that my husband
was gone. And every time I
was asked to make a decision, all I wanted to say was I don’t want to do this!
As I walked into the funeral home for the first time, I
thought this has to be someone else’s life. But there I was around the table
discussing all things death with Gordie’s family. Thank god Jane was there to support me, sometimes literally.
Gordie always had a very cavalier attitude about discussing
what he wanted me to do should he die first. His standard response was “what do I care? I’ll be dead”. That was so typical Gordie. So, I struggled to remember what I was
able to pull out of him during those conversations. I told his family that I was 90% sure he wanted to be
cremated but that I was a little unsure about doing that since my children were
so young and I felt they needed a place to visit their Dad as they grew
up. The funeral director told me
we could bury his ashes in a cemetery if that’s what I wanted. I liked that idea but also struggled
with thinking that Gordie would want his ashes scattered in a place of
significance to him. My first
thought in terms of a location was McCall Idaho, where we were married, or on a
mountain in Colorado, where we had spent most of our short life together. Someone at the table, I do not remember
who, suggested that we bury half of Gordie’s ashes in a local cemetery and that
we scatter the other half. Pat said
that we should scatter the ashes in the hills of the Estate because Gordie
loved the Estate and the hills so much.
Pat was right, Gordie loved his family’s estate and loved those hills
where he spent so much time even more.
But, I could not avoid the thought “but he died there”. Still, I agreed with the plan. I did not realize that it would be
months before we scattered his ashes.
I wanted a Catholic funeral. Gordie was not Catholic, in fact he was never baptized, but
before we married we had agreed to raise a Catholic family. I was raised Catholic and the
high school we attended was a Catholic high school. We were married in a Catholic church and both of our sons
were baptized Catholic. I
preferred to have the funeral at the Catholic Church in the town next to
ours: it was not our Parish but it
was my parents’ Parish. I did not
want to have the funeral in the church that we attended because I did not want
Nathan to remember his Father’s funeral every time we attended church for the
rest of his life. Jane called my
parents’ church to see if they would do the funeral even though Gordie was not
Catholic. They agreed to do it.
Ironically, the church we had selected was the church where
Nathan had been baptized.
The other big decision was whether or not to do a viewing
the night before the funeral. I
was against it for two reasons.
First, I am 100% certain that Gordie would have hated people looking at
him in a casket. Second, I was
already scared to death how I was going to make it through the funeral. How on earth would I be able to make it
through two events?
Gordie’s family felt strongly about doing something the
night before. We settled for a
closed casket visitation at the funeral home. My only request was “can I bring my own music? “ Gordie would have hated the sad music
that was playing at the funeral home that morning. The answer was yes.
The hardest moment for me that morning was walking into the
room with the caskets. I walked
in, looked at those things, and nearly vomited.
I told Gordie’s brother Pat “I can’t do this, you pick” and
walked out.
I sat with Jane for a few minutes and then walked back
in. Pat and Gordie’s parents had
narrowed it down to two choices: I
made the final choice and then walked out again.
I remember Pat said, “it looks like something Gordie would
have made”. I actually smiled. He was right.
The last detail to be discussed was the reception, which we
all agreed should be a Celebration of Life. Gordie’s Father was a long time member of a very nice
country club in the area and the family (including Gordie, the kids, and me) had
many memories at the club. Pat
felt strongly that Gordie would have liked his Celebration of Life to be at the
country club. Gordie’s Dad and
Step-Mom volunteered to take care of it.
I was so grateful. I did
not have any planning or decision making left in me. I just wanted to go home.
Jane drove me home.
My Mom and Dad were watching the boys. Nathan was very curious about where I had been. I told him. At that point I had decided to be as appropriately honest
with him as I could. He had many,
many questions about the details that we had just sorted through. He asked if his Dad was going to be “buried
or burned”. His use of the word
“burned” shocked me a little. I
told him it was called cremation and asked him where he had heard about it and
his response was “at school.” I
was not that surprised given that he attends a Christian school. I told him that we had decided to
cremate Daddy and bury half of his ashes in the cemetery that was in town and
scatter the other half of the ashes in the hills behind the Estate. I asked Nathan if that plan sounded OK
to him and he nodded.
He then said “I want to see Daddy before we burn him.” My heart sank.
Looking back three months later, this is the only area where
I think I made the wrong decision.
I felt strongly that Nathan should not see Gordie’s body for three
reasons. First, I believed, and
still do, that Gordie would not have wanted his son to see him dead and have
that as his last vision of him.
Second, Gordie was about to undergo an autopsy and I was very concerned
that he would not look the same after, a concern that turned out to be
valid. Third, I just did not think
it was appropriate for a six year old boy to see a dead body, especially that
of his Father.
“Nathan, I’m not going to let you see Daddy’s body”, I said
“Why not?” he asked
“Because Daddy would not want you to see him like this. He would want you to remember him the
way that you do now, the way that he looked the night before he died when he
was practicing baseball with you, or the last time you saw him when he dropped
you off at school the day he died”, I replied.
“But I want to see him”, Nathan protested.
“But don’t you want to honor what Daddy would have wanted?”
I asked.
“OK” he said but I could hear the resistance in his voice.
It was not until months later that I started to question my
decision based on what I was reading in books, literature from my support
group, and conversations with the Grief Counselor who Nathan and I were both
seeing. According to all of those
sources, seeing the body can be a way for children to understand the finality
of death. Nathan also told me several
times after all was said and done that he wished that I had let him see
Gordie’s body.
Even today, I do not know if I made the right decision. I repeatedly think about it and
question my decision. However, I
do believe, without a doubt, that Gordie would not have wanted Nathan to see
him that way and that is what keeps me from agonizing about whether or not I
screwed up.
The final trip in preparing for the services was the meeting
with the Catholic Church. Gordie’s
Mom, Dad, Step-Mom and Brother went with me. Again, I was in a fog with a voice in my head on a continuous
loop asking, is this real? Within minutes my phone starting
lighting up with texts. Jane and
Brenda were texting me recommendations for readings and songs. I actually smiled. My Catholic Besties knew that I was not
the greatest Catholic and that I would have no idea what to pick and what
Gordie would have been OK with.
The Coordinator at the church would provide me with some choices, I
would look at my texts and then make the choice. My friends had it covered, just like they had everything
else covered.
At one point, I hit my max. I could not do it anymore. The Coordinator suggested that we make a program. I said no. I could not handle it.
She said they would put together something to hand out hand that listed
the readings and songs. I said
fine. I was done. I wanted to go home.
There was one thing left that I wanted to do once I got home
and I wanted to do it with Greg, Gordie’s best friend. I wanted to make the music for the
visitation. Only Greg and I would
know what music Gordie loved and what he would want played at the first night
of his send off. We gathered
around the kitchen table at my parents’ house with my Mac and iTunes
account. We started writing down
bands and songs that Gordie loved.
Big Head Todd. Dave
Matthews Band. U2. The Police. Pearl Jam.
Lenny Kravitz. Bruce Springsteen. Cold Play. Kid Rock. And
of course we had to find something from Frank Sinatra, one of Gordie’s most
favorite artists. We chose “Fly Me
to the Moon”. Then we added songs
that we thought were appropriate for the occasions. The Samples “We are Shaking”. Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide”. The Blues Traveler’s “The Mountains Win Again”. Eddie Money “My Friends, My Friends”. REM “Nightswimming”. We remembered concerts that the three
of us had attended together. We
reminisced about other memories tied to the songs. And, we cried.
Wow, did we cry.
The playlist from Gordie’s visitation is still on my iPod
today. I listen to it when I want
to feel close to him and to this day, I still cry when I listen to it. Music was a big part of our lives together. We both loved music, we attended many
concerts together, and we had introduced the boys to our love of music from
birth.
About a week after Gordie died, Nathan was playing with my
iPad and went into my iTunes account.
He asked me which songs in my library Gordie liked. I sat down and pointed to some of his
Dad’s favorite songs. I then
started to take care of some things around the house. Nathan stayed in my room listening to all of the songs that
I had pointed out. Nathan became
addicted to my iPad and iPod, not for the games, but for the music. It became his way of dealing with the
pain and, I believe, his way of feeling close to Gordie. He would listen to music on one of
those devices for hours, in my room or even in the car. For weeks and months he would ask me
“Did Daddy like this song?” and then file it into his brain. It took me a while to realize that he
was making playlists with all the songs that I told him Daddy loved. It was then that I realized what I was
going to get him for his birthday, which was 2.5 months after Gordie died.
