Tomorrow (Feb 7) is the 3 year anniversary of Dad's funeral. Picking up where I left off in my story......



When it came time for our appointment at the funeral home, Tom, Mom, Sue and I drove there together. The funeral director was very kind. He made sure we were comfortable and offered Mom and Sue coffee. Then we began discussing the plans.



We talked about package prices. We discussed the options available. A couple of times, Sue would get choked up and have to step outside. After a few minutes, Mom would ask either Tom or me to go check on her. This scenario was repeated several times that afternoon.



We picked the funeral program cover and the verse inside. When it came time to discuss the actual funeral service, the director asked if we wanted the service in our church or at the chapel there on site. We discussed it briefly and all agreed that the mortuary chapel was best. Dad wasn't particularly religious; he didn't attend church, so he had no priest, pastor, or minister who knew him or the family. The funeral director said he could conduct the service or we could have a family member. After a quiet moment, Mom asked me if I'd be willing to conduct the funeral.



It surprised me. The only of Mom and Dad's kids who are "religious" are Tom and me. He attends a "born again" Protestant church which is pretty mainstream; I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I fully expected Mom to ask Tom. But, for whatever reason, she wanted me to do it. Later Tom confided in me that he didn't think he could have done it without breaking up, so he was glad I accepted.



I accepted Mom's invitation. The director then discussed with me the usual elements of a service, but, he made it clear that we could do anything we wanted--within reason. It was decided that the funeral would be held on Wednesday to allow family time to travel in. Next we talked about the obituary. It was decided that I would also write the obit since I a) was doing the eulogy and would have the pertinent information, b) was an English teacher and so could (allegedly) write well, and c) had some journalism background, having taught it for a number of years. I'll try to find a copy of the obit and include it here.



After all the funeral and headstone arrangements had been made, the only thing left to do was select the coffin. Mom reaffirmed Dad's age-old wish that we "just put him in an old pine box and nail the lid shut." The director led us (Mom, Tom, and me--Sue stepped outside again) into the casket display room. The very first casket we saw was made of beautiful pine. Mom said, "That's it." We looked briefly at a few others, but mostly out of courtesy to the director. The decision had been made.



As the appointment ended, the last thing the director asked was about burial clothes. Dad had one suit that he didn't wear often. He didn't own a white dress shirt. Mom said she'd pick some clothes out and have us bring them to the funeral home. With that, we made our initial payment, thanked the director and went back to Mom's. We looked through Dad's clothes and found his grey suit but couldn't find a decent shirt. Tom and I convinced Mom to let us buy a white shirt and tie to match the suit for him to be buried in. Both Sue and Mom were tired, so they decided to nap.



Tom and I stopped by his house briefly and then headed out in search of a shirt and tie. Thus began one of my fondest memories connected to my dad's funeral. By this time it was close to 4:00 in the afternoon. The funeral director said he'd like the clothes ASAP in order to prepare Dad's body for viewing on Monday. He told us he'd be working late that night as there were several funerals scheduled that week.



Prosser had no place that sold white dress shirts, so Tom and I headed to Sunnyside. Things had been so emotional and so tense that day--we needed some laugh time. Every little thing we said or saw set us into hysterical laughter. We literally laughed until we cried. We laughed about Sue's 900 trips outside to regain her composure. It wasn't funny--but it didn't matter. To us at that moment in time, it was--and we laughed. Once we got to Sunnyside, our first stop was K-Mart. After 30 minutes of searching the aisles, we finally asked a clerk where the white dress shirts were. She led us to the underwear aisle and pointed to the dozens of white shirts on the shelves--white T-shirts!! We busted up laughing; I'm sure she thought we were very rude. When we told her we needed a white dress shirt with buttons and a collar, she said, "Oh...we don't have any."



Next stop was Wal-Mart. There we were able to find what we needed. As we were checking out, we noticed the Little Caesar's Pizza counter in the front of the store. In unison, Tom and I looked at each other and said, "Ohhh, that smells good." After paying for the shirt and tie, we hit the pizza counter and got two big slices of pepperoni and some pop. Out in the car, it dawned on us that it was close to 5:00 and we hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. We snarfed down the pizza there in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I don't even remember what else we talked about, but we laughed. I do remember laughing. But then, Tom and I always laugh together.



On the drive back to the funeral home, we discussed the funeral service. I asked Tom what he thought of doing a photo slideshow. We had 3 days; I'd done lots of them for the volleyball team. Tom liked the idea. Back at the funeral home, we delivered the shirt and tie, and we asked the director if we could do a slideshow as part of the service. He said we could if we had the equipment. It was set.



Once back at Tom's, Mary had arrived and was over at Mom's. We searched through old pictures to use for the slideshow. A short time later Mary came back to Tom's and helped us. Around 7:00 I headed back to Richland. Eric was still at Shannon's parents' house.



When I picked him up, I sat and shared with Helen and Oris the plans for the funeral. They expressed their love for me and my family and again offered to be of help in any way they could. Near 9:00, Eric and I headed home. He was sad and tired. He had a little meltdown. I let him sleep in my bed with me. Shannon had only been gone a day and half. He missed his mom, and I could have used a big hug right about then too.



By 9:30 Eric was asleep; I began working on Dad's obituary. Around 11:00 I was exhausted and crawled into bed next to Eric. At about 5:00 AM Sunday, the phone rang. I stumbled out of bed and answered it. On the other end of the line was Shannon, calling from Beijing. She could only talk for a minute or two. She told me she was sorry about my dad and wished she could be here. I told her I loved her. We decided to let Eric sleep. Shannon and I said our goodbyes; she said she'd email later that day and would call in a couple of days when she had Marlee. Then she was halfway around the world again. I hung up the phone. For the first time in my life I knew what it felt like to be alone. I sat down on the hallway steps, and then it was my turn to cry.