Life & Death - Christmas & The Surrounding Days -
Christmas was -- well -- relatively uneventful. This was surprising as we were spending the holiday with Jas' family (a normally stressful thing for all involved) and that we were spending it at his grandmother's house (who had died just a few days prior on Dec. 23).
However, his mother was handling the situation well and Jas' sisters didn't show up until later in the day, so all went okay. There was salmon and turkey to eat and gifts to open, pictures to go through and papers to peruse, conversations to be had and conversations to listen to. All was actually quite pleasant, minus the nagging fact that in just a few days we would be standing as representatives of grief for all of Francis' (Jas' grandmother) friends and extended family.
Sunday was spent running about the Kansas City area, including a quick stop at Jas' work and a sojourn to the local Lowe's to order another set of french doors for our living room. I have decided to seal that room off as our beagle finds my furniture irresistible and has now completely destroyed our couch and chaise lounge in fits of manic rage. Both pieces would cost more to repair/reupholster than to purchase brand new ones, so out to the curb this week for bulky trash pick up they go. What a mess!
So, if you are reading this, you might wait to stop by for a visit for a couple of weeks, just until we can install the new doors and get some furniture to sit on!
Monday was Francis' visitation. She was such a sweet little lady and had quite a few friends who came to the event. So many of them were so very stricken by her death -- I just felt so bad for them. It was easier for those of us who saw all of her suffering and were expecting her death as she reached the last days. Those who had seen her smiling and at baby showers and family get togethers just a few weeks before had a very hard time accepting her death. It was so very sad.
I'm not trying to say that we don't care about Francis and her death, just that all of those close to her have been dealing with this since she was admitted into the hospital in one form or another and some of that initial grief has softened, turning more into acceptance than tears at this late date.
I have to comment here, in all my morbidity, that the funeral home did an excellent job on Francis. She was a lovely older woman to begin with, but whomever did the hair and make-up really did a good job. You see, I have a standard for good funerary work -- the hands. Usually you look at the hands and they are flat and lifeless. The color is wrong and the shape and position are off. They look like they've been run over or smashed and they never seem to match the person you knew. However Francis' hands were perfect. Every spot, every scar, every line -- perfect. In fact, my eyes tricked me on a few occasions, making me see them flutter or quiver, as if she were readying herself to reach up and adjust her lapel or earring.
They also didn't use five tons of that nasty orange putty or reshaping wax on her face and neck. For the most part, they stuck with her natural color pallet, choosing shades closer to her normal make-up colors. They really did quite a respectable job - Francis, being very concerned with her appearance, would have been pleased, I think.
Today is the funeral. It is at 2 p.m. My work gave me the day off as funeral leave. This concept is odd to me. I mean, the only person close to me that I had to take time off to help plan and prepare for his funeral was my uncle and, him being only an uncle didn't warrant any funeral leave. Of course, I didn't argue the point, but he was more of a father to me than my own dad and he was one of my best friends. I took several days of vacation time to help my aunt make preparations for his wake as they had no children and I am considered the child they never had.
As for Francis' funeral, Jason is the only pallbearer at this point. I told him that I would have gladly helped had I not been pregnant. The rest of her relatives are mostly older people who are in mixed states of health. I suggested they discuss it with the funeral director and see if a few of his men would help. Of course, I also suggested that Lindsey, Jason's ox-like younger sister help. She is a very stout girl, well over six-feet tall and approximately a size 22. She can lift large televisions over her head, and when angry, has knocked over and thrown several large furniture items. She would have definitely been strong enough to help with the casket. However, that is not traditionally accepted, I guess. I wonder why ... Has anyone ever seen a female pallbearer? I vaguely remember my aunt Viola being a pallbearer at a funeral when I was very young, but that's about it. She was also a strikingly tall woman who was very strong, but far more feminine than Jas' sister.
Anyway, I hope everyone's Christmas holiday was good and that New Year's brings them a new year of hope (and happiness).
Hollie
However, his mother was handling the situation well and Jas' sisters didn't show up until later in the day, so all went okay. There was salmon and turkey to eat and gifts to open, pictures to go through and papers to peruse, conversations to be had and conversations to listen to. All was actually quite pleasant, minus the nagging fact that in just a few days we would be standing as representatives of grief for all of Francis' (Jas' grandmother) friends and extended family.
Sunday was spent running about the Kansas City area, including a quick stop at Jas' work and a sojourn to the local Lowe's to order another set of french doors for our living room. I have decided to seal that room off as our beagle finds my furniture irresistible and has now completely destroyed our couch and chaise lounge in fits of manic rage. Both pieces would cost more to repair/reupholster than to purchase brand new ones, so out to the curb this week for bulky trash pick up they go. What a mess!
So, if you are reading this, you might wait to stop by for a visit for a couple of weeks, just until we can install the new doors and get some furniture to sit on!
Monday was Francis' visitation. She was such a sweet little lady and had quite a few friends who came to the event. So many of them were so very stricken by her death -- I just felt so bad for them. It was easier for those of us who saw all of her suffering and were expecting her death as she reached the last days. Those who had seen her smiling and at baby showers and family get togethers just a few weeks before had a very hard time accepting her death. It was so very sad.
I'm not trying to say that we don't care about Francis and her death, just that all of those close to her have been dealing with this since she was admitted into the hospital in one form or another and some of that initial grief has softened, turning more into acceptance than tears at this late date.
I have to comment here, in all my morbidity, that the funeral home did an excellent job on Francis. She was a lovely older woman to begin with, but whomever did the hair and make-up really did a good job. You see, I have a standard for good funerary work -- the hands. Usually you look at the hands and they are flat and lifeless. The color is wrong and the shape and position are off. They look like they've been run over or smashed and they never seem to match the person you knew. However Francis' hands were perfect. Every spot, every scar, every line -- perfect. In fact, my eyes tricked me on a few occasions, making me see them flutter or quiver, as if she were readying herself to reach up and adjust her lapel or earring.
They also didn't use five tons of that nasty orange putty or reshaping wax on her face and neck. For the most part, they stuck with her natural color pallet, choosing shades closer to her normal make-up colors. They really did quite a respectable job - Francis, being very concerned with her appearance, would have been pleased, I think.
Today is the funeral. It is at 2 p.m. My work gave me the day off as funeral leave. This concept is odd to me. I mean, the only person close to me that I had to take time off to help plan and prepare for his funeral was my uncle and, him being only an uncle didn't warrant any funeral leave. Of course, I didn't argue the point, but he was more of a father to me than my own dad and he was one of my best friends. I took several days of vacation time to help my aunt make preparations for his wake as they had no children and I am considered the child they never had.
As for Francis' funeral, Jason is the only pallbearer at this point. I told him that I would have gladly helped had I not been pregnant. The rest of her relatives are mostly older people who are in mixed states of health. I suggested they discuss it with the funeral director and see if a few of his men would help. Of course, I also suggested that Lindsey, Jason's ox-like younger sister help. She is a very stout girl, well over six-feet tall and approximately a size 22. She can lift large televisions over her head, and when angry, has knocked over and thrown several large furniture items. She would have definitely been strong enough to help with the casket. However, that is not traditionally accepted, I guess. I wonder why ... Has anyone ever seen a female pallbearer? I vaguely remember my aunt Viola being a pallbearer at a funeral when I was very young, but that's about it. She was also a strikingly tall woman who was very strong, but far more feminine than Jas' sister.
Anyway, I hope everyone's Christmas holiday was good and that New Year's brings them a new year of hope (and happiness).
Hollie