My brother arrived the day after Dad died. We went down to the mortuary together to view the body.
Dad looked the same as the day he'd died. He and Mom had wanted us to use a (cheap) direct cremation outfit, so the viewing definitely was no-frills. However, someone had taken time to comb Dad's hair.
The direct services guy explained we had 30 minutes to spend with Dad, and no more. It was the law. The body was un-embalmed. We told him we understood.
We stood alone, gazing at Dad's cold body. Neither of us knew what to say. My brother and I have never been close. We told a few stories. It was only when we turned to leave that we began to cry, and then we clung to each other like two small children. After we left the chapel, we headed home to plan the funeral.
Mom and Dad's relationship was rocky and complicated. I don't think Mom really wanted a funeral, but my sister insisted. As my brother and I sat in my living room, we hatched a plan to create a photo montage of Dad's life to display at the funeral. What else should we do?
"I know which hymns Dad wanted sung at his funeral," my brother offered. "We talked about it."
"That's great," I said. "Should we have a reception?"
"Um...who's going to come?" my brother asked hesitantly.
It was true. We couldn't count on many mourners, since Mom and Dad had few friends. Dad's remaining sisters were, themselves, old and frail and living in different states. I doubted many of my cousins would come, despite the fact Dad had always been the family confidante, the one everyone turned to for advice and counsel.
As it turned out, Mom took care of most of the arrangements. The church ladies would provide a reception for whoever did turn out. We could put up our photo display. Hymns would be sung. All was in order.
On July 31, Dad was laid to rest in accordance with Lutheran traditions.
In the receiving line, which was very short, a man about my age shook my hand. "It's Bill Diller," he said.
We all reacted with astonishment. Bill's dad and my dad had been great friends as young men. Bill's dad had been captain of Dad's bowling team. And, most astonishingly, Bill had driven straight through from Wheatland, Wyoming, to attend Dad's funeral.
"You might remember," he told me at the reception, "my wife and I lived here for a few years. We didn't know anyone, and it was a wonderful feeling to drive over to your folks's house and know we'd be treated like family. I considered your dad to be my dad at that time."
I didn't know what to say. I was touched beyond belief. I know Dad would have been, too.
Bill had to leave directly from the funeral in order to get back home in time for work on Monday. But I'll never forget his kindness and how much it meant to us that he came all that way to pay his last respects.
I cannot tell you how much I have appreciated, on a personal and professional basis, your many articles in your series. As a caregiver counselor at an area agency on aging, a former director of an assisted living facility with a secure dementia unit, and the daughter of a wonderful man who (I believe) suffers from vascular dementia, although my siblings and mom are reticent to acknowledge it, I thank you for your HUMAN accounting of the many challenges and joys that can come from caring for a loved one with dementia. If I could, I'd offer you a huge hug. Since I can't, I can only send you a genuine thank you for sharing such a real and touching story in your life.
You have no idea how touched I have been, on a personal and professional basis, by your many articles in your series. They are all so HUMAN!! As a caregiver counselor at an area agency on aging, a former director of an assisted living facility with a secure dementia unit, and the daughter of an amazing man who (I am quite certain) suffers from vascular dementia, but my siblings & mom don't want to face it..........I thank you. If I could, I'd offer you a huge hug. Thank you for sharing your very touching and real story.
I really believe that it is good to have a service / funeral / viewing / whatever to allow people time to gather and remember a life. It was so touching to me the people that showed up at my Mom's funeral. God bless.
oops...meant to add that the woman had been taught first grade by my mother-in-law..just wanted to clarify that..
When my mother-in-law passed last October, we were shocked by the number of strangers (to us, anyway) that showed at the viewing and her funeral. There was a woman my age that had been taught first grade that made the drive out. She said many wonderful things that brought smile to our faces. My husband's aunt (sister-in-law to mother-in-law) drove several hours to be there with her children and families. They had been best friends for many years and then had fallen out of touch many years ago. She, herself, was over 90 years old and in poor health and yet, she so wanted to be there. That was so touching. And on and on. I believe that viewings and funerals are really more for the living to mourn and yet, remember their loved one. It shows you that your loved one's life touched so many people, in very many ways. Your father sounds like he was an amazing man, Elizabeth and you were very blessed to have him as your father. May you continue to find your strength and peace as you go through the months and years ahead.
It's always comforting to find (in an upside-down sort of way) that those we loved made deep impressions on other people; sort of a vindication of our feelings of how special they were. We never truly know how many people our lives make a difference to, but you know your Dad gave grace to a person's life. That's truly precious knowledge. God give you all grace and strength.
One of the downsides of living a long life, not many attend your services at the end. If I got to choose, I would choose a long life and a short guest list. When dad passed at 82 from his dementia it was me, my three daughters, my brother his wife and two kids, my ex-wife and three caregivers from Aegis Senior Living. Everyone else was either already gone or too ill to make it including his only sibling, his brother living 20 miles away.
It is those little remembrances in times of loss that are the most meaningful, because they are so unexpected. At my mom's funeral this past January, one of her high school classmates attended services, quite remarkable because my mom was 92 and they had graduated from high school 75 years ago. It meant a great deal to me that she cared about mom that much that she made the effort to come. May God be with you and give you comfort and peace.
Sometimes it's surprising when you hear how much your parents meant to other people. The girls who lived across the street from us as kids told us my mom was more of a role model of what a mom should be than their own mother was. I never would have thought. And at my dad's funeral, his old roommate from when my parents were dating showed up. For a minute, he thought I was my mom. And we had a mysterious woman show up at the viewing for my dad who knew him from before my parents had met. It would have been interesting to hear from my dad stories about when they knew each other. A lifetime of people whose lives have been positively influenced by our parents. It's amazing how many people we touch in our lives. It's nice to hear how much others care for our loved ones. I'm glad this man could show you how important your dad was to him. Take care.
When I was training to become a Stephen Minister (Stephen Ministers are church caregivers for people going through difficult times), I remember our facilitator saying that care receivers won't always remember what you say (in case you screw up and say something well-intended but not helpful), but that they will always remember that you were there for them. I'm glad that Bill's act of kindness and presence comforted you and your family on the day of your dad's funeral. Your dad's kindness obviously made a lasting impression on Bill!
Precious memories and Tender Mercies
Sometimes its those moments of unexpected kindness and grace that make all the difference in the world. Peace and comfort to you.