Sunday, June 21, 2009
A sad day for me
Today is Father's Day and I am feeling very sad. I know I should be grateful for the dad I had and for the times I spent with him. I should be remembering the good times, and be thankful I was lucky enough to have him as my dad. Instead, I am focused on the loss. I wish I could do the grateful thing today. Maybe next year. Or hopefully, in a few hours.
Friday, June 5, 2009
A grateful daughter
When we left for Michigan, I felt like I was taking my dad home. It was a good feeling thinking I was taking him to be with my mom. Although, I know good and well that those ashes were not him, and that plot of land in Caseville does not contain my mom. But still, that's what it felt like.
And it felt like Michigan when we arrived last Wednesday. Chilly, yet hot and muggy. But for the end of May, it was not typical weather. Still, it felt like home to me.
Planning a funeral 2000 miles away was not impossible. It all came together. Last minute things were done on Friday like meeting with the priest, checking out the sound system in the church, and seeing where the lunch would be served. We all arrived at the church about an hour before the service on Saturday. We set up picture boards, put out cards and service programs, talked to those who arrived...and waited for what seemed like eternity for the mass to begin. Family and friends (and many I didn't know) filled the church. The service was beautiful. The music was great (thanks to Dawn and Smith), readings were done by family (thanks to Chris and Phil), offerings were reverently presented by cousins (Loren, Liz, Ben, Abby) and the priest's homily was...well, what can I say? I don't remember a word he said. I was fidgeting. You see, when I opened up my folder to get out my eulogy papers, there were 2 pieces of paper. The only thing bad about that was they were both my page 2. No page 1. Yikes. 1-2-3 breathe, Marcia!!! I ended up speaking off the top of my head, trying to remember what I had written, and adding lots of ums, I am sure. I am much better at writing, (or reading what I have written) than I am at off the cuff speaking in front of a crowd. But I made it through my imaginary page 1, and on to page 2 until I fell apart for the last 3 sentences. My lovely daughter came to the rescue and finished it for me. How does she stay so composed??? An amazing young woman! Thanks, Dawnie! :)
The mass, the luncheon, and the prayers at the cemetery were all part of the longest goodbye to my dad. Alzheimer's is often called just that - the longest goodbye. My dad, the "daddy" I grew up with, the one that yelled at me and my brothers, the one that brushed my hair, the one that blew his Pall Mall smoke into my ear when I had an earache, the one that had the loudest sneeze and laugh that I have ever heard, the one that taught me to drive, the one that used to drag me shopping on Christmas Eve, the one that beamed when I graduated from college, the one that walked me down the aisle with Mickey Mouse socks on, the one that held my babies with that look in his eyes, the one that cared for my mom - that dad had been gone for a long time. I say adios to Mr. Alzheimer's, the thief! You may have stolen my dad, but you gave me time to love him in a way that I could have never imagined. You brought out a part of me that flourished over the past few years. And for that, I am grateful.
And it felt like Michigan when we arrived last Wednesday. Chilly, yet hot and muggy. But for the end of May, it was not typical weather. Still, it felt like home to me.
Planning a funeral 2000 miles away was not impossible. It all came together. Last minute things were done on Friday like meeting with the priest, checking out the sound system in the church, and seeing where the lunch would be served. We all arrived at the church about an hour before the service on Saturday. We set up picture boards, put out cards and service programs, talked to those who arrived...and waited for what seemed like eternity for the mass to begin. Family and friends (and many I didn't know) filled the church. The service was beautiful. The music was great (thanks to Dawn and Smith), readings were done by family (thanks to Chris and Phil), offerings were reverently presented by cousins (Loren, Liz, Ben, Abby) and the priest's homily was...well, what can I say? I don't remember a word he said. I was fidgeting. You see, when I opened up my folder to get out my eulogy papers, there were 2 pieces of paper. The only thing bad about that was they were both my page 2. No page 1. Yikes. 1-2-3 breathe, Marcia!!! I ended up speaking off the top of my head, trying to remember what I had written, and adding lots of ums, I am sure. I am much better at writing, (or reading what I have written) than I am at off the cuff speaking in front of a crowd. But I made it through my imaginary page 1, and on to page 2 until I fell apart for the last 3 sentences. My lovely daughter came to the rescue and finished it for me. How does she stay so composed??? An amazing young woman! Thanks, Dawnie! :)
The mass, the luncheon, and the prayers at the cemetery were all part of the longest goodbye to my dad. Alzheimer's is often called just that - the longest goodbye. My dad, the "daddy" I grew up with, the one that yelled at me and my brothers, the one that brushed my hair, the one that blew his Pall Mall smoke into my ear when I had an earache, the one that had the loudest sneeze and laugh that I have ever heard, the one that taught me to drive, the one that used to drag me shopping on Christmas Eve, the one that beamed when I graduated from college, the one that walked me down the aisle with Mickey Mouse socks on, the one that held my babies with that look in his eyes, the one that cared for my mom - that dad had been gone for a long time. I say adios to Mr. Alzheimer's, the thief! You may have stolen my dad, but you gave me time to love him in a way that I could have never imagined. You brought out a part of me that flourished over the past few years. And for that, I am grateful.