The Funeral
We left for Cleveland Thursday morning. The car we ending up renting, a teeny tiny bright yellow "economy" car made me giggle uncontrollably on and off for days. Dave kept referring to it as the clown car. Neither one of us is a small person. The yellow just seemed to draw attention to it. I'm sure it was a mixture of nervous laughter and true amusement. I felt guilty a few times on the way when I would catch myself talking exciteably about seeing my cousins, my aunts. I sub conciously stayed away from the topic of uncle's.
The viewing started at 4 p.m. We arrive a little before 6. The drive ended up being a bit longer than expected because of construction and hitting rough hour traffic just as we entered the city. We had to check in at the hotel, freshen up and change into our "viewing clothes".
My mom was standing at the door, watching for me with that motherly determination on her face. By God, she was going to see me FIRST. My mother excels in situations where she has her kids surrounding her like loyal subjects. Mom is adorable these days. I want to protect her. She looks like a grandma. She really WANTS to be a grandma. My brother hadn't arrived yet; car problems. He wouldn't arrive until the middle of the night. Mom was very upset that he wouldn't be able to view the body. I think my brother did it on purpose, thinking he could get away with showing no emotion and not having to deal with all of the sadness. I'm better at it - I cry nicely at the viewing, sob shamelessly in the car on the way back to the house. I find raw emotion a bit distasteful, as does all of my family. We mourn privately. In public we smile, dab at our eyes and distract ourselves with something when you can feel that grief start to get out of control. It might be unhealthy, but it works for us.
My cousin Nick, when he saw me, grabbed me and held on tightly for a few minutes, kissing the top of my head. I could tell he had been crying a little bit before - his eyes were red. No one would ever really see him cry, just the hint of it. I felt like we were little kids again.
Uncle Bob looked old. Very, very old. He was only 69, but he looked years older. The dementia had not been kind to him at all. It aged him quickly.
For the viewing, the family had put in his favorite Gettysburg book, the original. He had read it so many times it felt like silk, and the pages were fragile. With amazing foresite, when his memory got really bad, my aunt replaced the original with another ordered from amazon.com. Each time a new one would fall apart, she would dutifully order another to replace it. She saved the one that we all remembered him with, The Original, for Nick. He was also wearing all the medals from the air force. Uncle Bob was a Major. Around his neck was the necklace that had been made so he could wear the musketball he had found at Gettysburg on one of his many vacations there, wandering around. I'm sure, if there is a heaven, Uncle Bob is up there with the Gettysburg dead swapping stories and discussing tactical manuevers.
Everything I know about the Civil War I learned from my Uncle Bob.
Before we left, he was stripped of all these things; they went home with us, the family, to be put in a place of honor with all of his wonderful Civil War artifacts.
We carried flower arrangement after flower arrangement to the cars to be taken back to Aunt Betty's house. It gave us a mission; something to do.
Arriving at the house on Gareau Drive, everything was unloaded in reverse. the house looked the same, only smaller. Growing up has a lot to do with the change of perception. That night we all packed into the house, laughing, telling stories. My cousins built a fire in the firepit outside and we dragged 3 coolers of beer out there so we didn't have to keep going in and out of the house. It was a party that Uncle Bob would have loved. Kids running around, dogs wrestling, women yammering, men sitting back in little huddled groups talking politics and about the war. Tons of memories were swapped. I learned about how Uncle Bob grew up - something I knew little of. Others learned of how he was our Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and Teacher of all things Civil War.
We ate food that was made out of love. We made sure we didn't run out of ice. Slowly people drifted away, tired and wanting to rest up for the next morning. We left and went back to the hotel. I needed to relax without all of the sound. I smoked a joint, layed down and fell asleep right away.
The funeral was amazing. There was an emotional service, full of music that was picked specifically by my aunt. Each song we sang would have been sung by soldiers at Gettysburg. Several people got up and talked about what Uncle Bob meant to them; how he had impacted their life. All were incredibly touching. Most touching was my cousin Nick's, who admitted that he hadn't known he could do this until that moment. Nick spoke of what a wonderful father Bob had been, and what a great husband. He spoke of how after all Bob had forgotten, he still got the same look in his eye when he saw Betty, his wife. His love for Betty never, ever left. Laura, my cousin Paige's best friend spoke of how when her father left, Bob took his place and treated her like his daughter. Of his love for Michigan Football and his complete distaste of Ohio State. We're not sure where he developed these opinions, being that he grew up in NY, but there it was. I remember as a 13 year old, showing up for Christmas wearing an IU tshirts he said that would have to change. The next morning, under the tree, was a Wolverines t-shirt. I don't know where he found one on Christmas Eve. Probably a gas station.
Anyway. It was a good funeral, if there is such a thing. We all filed outside after he was escorted out by the Air Force. They did a 21 gun salute outside. He was quietly loaded into the hearse and as he was driven away, he grandchildren said "Bye, bye Pop pop".
There wasn't a burial. He was going to be cremated. Half of his ashes will be interred with Aunt Betty when she passes away, and half of them are going to Gettysburg. We don't know if it is legal, but come hell or high water, that man is going to be buried with the men that he so admired. As Nick put it, " I like to beg for forgiveness much more than I like begging for permission". Sounds like a good theory to me.
We ate, again, at the church. The Women's Group had prepared desserts and coffee. As usual, in our family, that simply wasn't good enough. Too many people had traveled too far to be here for just a cookie. So we had hauled in casseroles of chicken and rice, vegetable trays, pots of green beans, bowls of fruit salad. I come from true Methodist Women. Food cures all ills.
Dave and I escaped after a "cousins's picture" (which I may or may not share. I don't know who took it and who knows when I'll see it). We went back to the hotel to nap. My brother showed up about an hour into it asking if he could crash on the floor. He said that there were far too many people at Aunt Betty's and he needed some peace and quiet. I gave him a pillow, a blanket and turned on the t.v.
Comedy Central was showing Nation Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Uncle Bob had loved that movie. Chevy Chase was one of his favorite actors and we had grown up watching all of his movies over and over. Especially National Lampoon movies. Jon said "Are you kidding me?". I said, "I'm a little freaked out". Jon agreed, and we fell asleep.