Funerals and Family

Wow. What a week. No posts last week because I was knocked for a loop by two deaths in the family that happened within days of each other. My mother’s family is a close group of four siblings plus my 93-year-old grandmother and innumerable first cousins. Most of them live within minutes of each other in small farming towns near Dover, Delaware. On a Thursday Mom’s sister lost her husband of forty-two years, my Uncle Gerry. Five days later, on the same day that he was buried, Mom’s brother lost his wife of twenty-nine years, my Aunt Debbie. Aunt Debbie’s death had been long anticipated, but was very painful nonetheless. My uncle’s death was a complete shock to us all. A sudden heart attack took him as he sat at his kitchen table after dinner. Mark and I spent the week traveling back and forth to Dover, two and a half hours away, for various memorial services and family gatherings.

I am sad to see my mother’s generation facing the loss not only of parents but of spouses now. It makes me treasure the fact that my parents are both alive and still healthy. It also reminds me that I am truly middle-aged now. Less and less can be taken for granted each year.

In spite of all the sadness, I was warmed to see how my mother’s family pulled together to support each other in the chaotic week. Thank goodness for the rituals that surround a small-town funeral. There was planning to do, memorial services and church lunches to arrange. Both of the bereaved were kept plenty busy with a constant parade of callers dropping by to express condolences and to leave what seemed like bushels of food behind. Casseroles, pies, bread and cookies kept appearing at the door day after day. At the funeral home visiting hours, dozens and dozens of people came through, from distant relatives to coworkers, golf buddies and high school friends. Gatherings like this are so different from Washington social occasions. There, no-one ever asks me what I do for a living. In Dover, I’m Joyce’s daughter, the granddaughter of Helen and Sam. That places me immediately within a large web of kinship and relationships.

Throughout the week I wished that there was more I could do to help, but my mother has not ever gotten over the idea that she is here to take care of me, not the reverse. We continually have gentle little spats about my financial contribution to joint activities. She still thinks of me as I was in my poor student days, even though I’m now a homeowner with a paid-off car and a 401(k) fund. The best I could do was to just be there, to force her to sit down occasionally, and to sit beside her at the funerals, on the opposite side from my dad.

And thank goodness my husband was beside me. As we sat in the pew of the church where my parents were married, our hands linked in the midst of the other mourners, I felt grateful to the ends of my toes. I’m not quite able to have complete faith in the afterlife. But if this is all there is, I’ll take it.