I am so very glad that Saturday is over. I do believe that was one of the hardest days of my life, but I am left with a truly satisfying feeling about how everything was handled. Our wedding was not done the way we wanted, my beloved Uncle Paul's funeral was not the way I wanted, but my Dad's funeral was EXACTLY what we wanted. The hard core Witnesses who showed up were not pleased with the service, but I didn't give a damn. My office sent a ton of flowers, including the Executive Director himself (which surprised our Office Manager, because he usually doesn't notice the little people). Two of my bosses came, and the Office Manager, who is a dear friend irrespective of work. Jesika and her mom Vilma came, along with Gale, a dear ex-JW who actually went to Pioneer School with me and introduced me to Big Tex 22 years ago. I've never lost touch with her or shunned her, not even when I was still in the Borg. It was a nasty surprise when my Witness friend came in with about 10 brochures on where we go when we die, or whatever the title is, and she told me that the elder who was supposed to open told her to bring them so they could be passed out after the service! I smiled while thinking several unprintable things, took them from her (so they WOULDN'T get passed out), and put them in the ladies' room trash after the service was over. Hey, he wanted them left at the retirement home, so I did!
One of Chris' co-workers came too, and that just broke him up, that she cared enough about his feelings to show up. The service was moving and from the heart. One of the residents sang "Amazing Grace" and then a friend of ours (who is not an elder and told us he didn't have anything to lose in the Borg and considered it a privilege to speak for us) got up and told a little bit about Dad and mentioned briefly (and without an outline, imagine!) the hope that Dad had from the Bible. I didn't want that ignored out of respect for Dad. Then three of his friends from the retirement home got up and told stories about Dad and how much he meant to them.
Then Chris got up and spoke mainly to our children. He told them that Grandpa was always concerned about what kind of people they would grow up to be and what kind of values they would have. He read the scriptures in Corinthians about love in such a moving way that everyone was in tears (including him).
I finished up -- without a head covering or a householder, I might add -- by thanking everyone at the retirement home for being so kind to my father. I told them that they would be blessed because that was what Jesus wanted us to do, and I read verses from Matthew 25, where Jesus said "to the extent that you did this to the least of these my brothers, you did it to me." (I was also making a point to the Witnesses standing there. Some of them got it real good and didn't say a word to me after.) I told everyone that what they could do for my father now was to pay it forward: for every smile he gave them, smile at someone else; for every hug they received from them, hug someone who needs it. We can't change the entire world but we can make our part of it a little better by acting from the heart. Then we had a closing prayer and that was it.
It was pretty short but I think it was very effective. Some of the staff of the retirement home thanked me for having it there because it made them feel appreciated for what they did. One of the ladies told me she was the one who found my father's body. Wow. One lady, who was particularly close to my dad -- in fact, she lived right underneath him and heard the shot on Sunday night though she didn't at the time know what it was -- was not there. I took one of the beautiful plants and left it at her door with a note.
There were so many flowers that we couldn't take them all and I left the best for the retirement home to enjoy. Then as many people as wanted to came over to our house for lunch and we had a good old-fashioned wake. Wine flowed, people talked -- Witnesses and apostates and co-workers alike -- and it was very healing.
The internment was at 3:00 p.m., and only my best friend and her husband, and two other close friends, went with us. Chris read 2 Corinthians 4 at my request, and said a prayer. We put the box of ashes in the grave and Jennie and Jackson each laid a lei on it (Grandpa had brought them back from Hawaii back in December -- plastic). Then we each put a clod of dirt in the hole and waited for the cemetery worker to fill it up. We laid a beautiful wreath on it, and put another basket of flowers on Uncle Paul's grave, and then we left.
That night Terry (BF) & Eric & we four went to Benihana's and just let loose. We happened to sit at a table with a couple of chatty guys who got on the subject of gun control, of all things! Oh well, . . . . Just for Dad, I went a little Buddhist for the evening and put a spoonful of fried rice on my napkin with a little wine on it and wished him well, wherever he is. (He always loved Benihana's fried rice.)
So today I have absolutely no voice, a whopper sore throat, and feel like roadkill. But relieved roadkill. Now on to the business of life.
I love you all.
Nina
