I am dreading 1:00, and also the hour leading up to 1:00 and, let's face it, the hour directly after 1:00. Today at 1:00PM is Tim's funeral. It is currently 7:20AM and I still have not decided if I should go to the service or not.
This is a tricky situation. I feel like I ought to go. And certainly, who would say that they want to go to any one's funeral? Well, except that my Mom wants sparklers, baton twirling, and "Deep in the Heart of Texas" sung (complete with clapping) at her funeral.** And I would liked to have been a fly on the wall at the funeral in Iain Banks novel, The Crow Road, whose opening lines begin, 'It was the day my grandmother exploded. I sat in the crematorium, listening to my Uncle Hamish quietly snoring in harmony to Bach's Mass in B Minor..' Or maybe I'd be OK with going to a viewing with Grandma Mazur in the Stephanie Plum Bounty Hunter series in which funerals tend to be gossipy social gatherings where one never knows what might happen, especially if the service is closed casket.
But these are not realities. The realities are too sad, too horrific to be funny.
And please don't misunderstand. I don't mean to belittle the solemnity of the occasion. Tim's life is certainly worth mourning.
This post, sadly and selfishly, is about me. It's more that I don't know what to say. At funerals (and weddings, and baby showers, and any sort of gathering made up of two or more people) I become self-conscious about everything I do, whether I'm shaking a hand, giving a condolence, reacting to someone, speaking out loud... Everything should've/could've been done better, as noted in the numerous pages of mental critiques I give myself after an event. In addition, funerals are different from all other events since there are no formal invitations. I have to ask myself, "Is it my place to be there? Will the family want me there? Would it make a difference if I am not there, in which case, why would I stress my pregnant, hormonal self out by going?" Plus in this case, there is the added complication that my students will be there, ones who are currently in my class and those I've taught in the past who are coming home for Tim's service.
As usual, I'll probably spend some time telling myself to be firmly planted, stoic..teacherly... "Be strong. These kids need you," when really I know that (as usual) the students will, inevitably, hold me up instead. And I think that's OK. After all, I ask them to be vulnerable with me everyday. I suppose it is my turn.
Anyway.
It is now 8:20, and I think I ought to go.
I've known that I should go since Remington said the words, "Sunday at 1:00," though with that I felt the uneasiness of indecision rise within my soul.
It's 8:35. And I'm a selfish girl.
** Mom, that doesn't mean I want that party to happen any time soon. Do you hear me?!
2 comments:
Hi Ginger,
It is Amy Austin now (Amy Schultz). I got to your blog through Jen. I read your blog for today. In a way understand how you feel. I use to work with adults with disabilities. They would come to a program I worked in. I still think of the day when I got the call from the main office that one of our clients had passed away. I was sitting there in shock because I had just spent time with her and she was one of those client who drove you crazy at times. I began to think should I have been nicer to her that day when she began to act out. As a team my boss ask if we wanted to go. I have never really been to any place like that before. I never spoke with her mother either. It was strange at first but in the end I was glad I went. I was able to say good bye and show my support for a wonderful young lady. I know "1:00" will come before you know it. It will be alright.
If you want to catch up with me here is my e-mail address.
amylynschultz@gmail.com
Hey lady,
I'm just like you in these situations...where I worry what to do and what to say. I know - it's a day later and you already went. So I'll say congratulations for going, for doing the tough thing because that's what needed to be done anyway.
:),
Anne
P.S. On a MUCH lighter note, I also love the Plum novels...the amazing literary specimens they are! :)
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