TheBanyanTree: Memorial Service

[Margaret R. Kramer]

I hate going to these functions.  I hate not knowing what to say or what to
do.  It’s a little easier for me this time, because it’s my dad’s burial, so
I have a “place.”  I’m hoping my brother and sister will step forward and do
most of the socializing and I can sit in the background and watch the
interactions.  I’ll shake hands with people and nod as they tell stories
about my dad.  I’m sure people will comment on my weight loss and it’s nice
to be going to a function like this weighing less instead of weighing more
and then people would whisper, “She’s gained so much weight.”  No one
whispers if you’ve lost weight.  I also don’t smoke anymore, and it will be
interesting to see who comments on that.

I’m trying to decide what to wear.  Our weather has been gloomy and wet.
The sun is a distant memory.  We’ve been moving through dank air for over a
week.  The weather people promised sun and warmer temps today.  They were
smiling and jostling each other on TV, because they were so excited about
the forecast.  This morning finds low, non-moving clouds overhead and it was
cool enough for our heat to kick on.  So, should I wear dark and warm
clothes since this will be a graveside service?  Should I hope the sun makes
an appearance and wear something light and summery that will show off my
tan?  Should I seek comfort in black or expose myself in light colors?
Decisions, decisions.

I’ll wait for the right moment to leave.  I’ll wait for the conversation to
stutter out.  I’ll wait until I notice people glancing at their watches.  I’
ll wait until I hear the silent pause and say, “It was nice seeing
 everyone,” and then I’ll gather up Ray and Asher and make my escape.

We’ll talk about the relatives and friends in the car on the way home.  We’
ll probably digest the service that I didn’t help plan.  I skipped out of
meeting with the minister to go over the service.  That thing isn’t
important to me, just like the whole memorial service itself isn’t important
to me, which is why I find attending these events a strain.

For me, the vivid colors that are my dad’s memories aren’t found at the
gravesite.  I find my dad as I was tell my son about my dad taking me to
McDonald’s when there weren’t too many of them around and it was a very
special treat to go out and eat.  I think of the times we went fishing and
he taught me how to bait a hook or went hiking and he showed me how to
identify animals by their tracks.  I think of the times he worked on my
beater cars to get them running.

I understand and respect other people need funerals, memorial services, and
burials to properly reflect and honor the memory of a loved one.  I’ve never
felt that need.  As people who are close to me have died, I tuck them into
my heart and that’s where they are for me to visit any time I want to.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at earthlink.net

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Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two
most beautiful words in the English language.
~Henry James