My Dad died, a couple of years ago
and because of his death I spent a good amount of time analyzing death in my
family. Before my father died I lost two
grandfathers and a grandmother (my Dad’s stepmother). All the deaths were dealt with discreetly and
without a funeral. I did not realize how
disconnected my family was from the ritual of memorializing someone until my
Dad died.
My
dad had a bad accident, and was in the hospital for a few weeks before he
passed away. I could tell almost
immediately that the Dr. and attendants were not optimistic. About a week into his hospitalization I
started thinking about what we would do if he died. My brother and I were emotionally numb most
of the month but we needed to deal with everything because we were responsible
for our father. When we went to the
funeral home we decided to have my dad cremated, but we didn’t know what else
to do. We both felt that it would be difficult for us, having my dad cremated
and not saying goodbye or having a ceremony.
We are not a religious family and we do not belong to a church but it
was important to my brother and I that we have a memorial service. My father talked about his death
regularly. He was adamant that we did
not have a service. I do not think he
realized that it was a way for us to say goodbye and heal.
A
couple of weeks went by and we decided to take my dad off of life support (he
always said he wanted that), and we went back to the funeral home to make the
final arrangements. We decided to have a
memorial service in the church near the funeral home, in the cemetery my dad
would take his daily walks through. The
church is beautiful and in one of the nicest cemeteries in Portland. We decided we would scatter his ashes another
time in one of his favorite places. My
dad was a reporter for the Oregonian when I was growing up, so he knew a lot of
people in Portland. We thought it would
be nice if everyone who wanted to could say something about my dad at the
service. My dad’s best friend was a Marine as was my father, so he wanted to
make sure the Marines were there to give my dad a proper send-off. Despite not having a casket, the flag was
folded and given to me. As you can imagine, I had been crying for a month
straight. I cried freely and openly like
never before because everyone knew I was grieving. When Taps played I thought I would never stop
crying. There was a gun salute, a sermon
from my dad’s friend’s pastor, and then eulogies from friends and family.
My
dad was a bit of a recluse after his retirement. I constantly ran into friends and family
members who would say “have your dad call me, I haven’t heard from him in a
while.” When he was in the hospital I
met so many people who I had never met that wanted to visit my dad and keep him
company. At the memorial service the
church was so full people were spilling out of the back and into the
lobby. I couldn’t believe how many people
had wanted to say goodbye to my father, and I realized, he probably was afraid
that no one would show-up.
Having
a ceremony, with the Marines, and all the people my dad knew and loved was so
comforting for my brother and I. We
realized that his life was enriched by all of these people. Not only did my
brother and I get closure but we understood more about our dad that we didn’t
know, my father wasn’t just a recluse who smelled like Old Spice and constantly
worked on his memoirs, he was someone that people related to, thought about and
were touched by.
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