Ashes to ashes..
Well, today, as somber as it was, had it's interesting moments - I arrived at 8am to the Imaging Center for my MRI and Cat Scans... I'm used to the drill now after doing it many times over the last four years.. I brought my suit with me to switch into when I was done.. I went in for the Cat Scan first..
It wasn't any big deal.. you lie flat, they raise you up into an open donut shape (I've been fasting for a few hours, so yes a DONUT :) ).. and then pass you in and out a few times to get various scans of your body.
As I finished up they asked me when my most recent blood work was done, as they had to have it on file so they could inject the contrast into my arm for the MRI.. I said I wasn't sure.. I was going to get new blood work in the next few days for my new Oncologist.. wait a second.. CHEMO BRAIN strikes again - you IDIOT! You were supposed to get the blood work BEFORE the scans! DRAT! Like I said, I've done this many times before - but for some, unexplained reason - this time it slipped my mind.
They couldn't do the MRI without a set of blood work results from the last 30 days.. the last one I'd done was 62 days out :( Not good enough. SO I said my goodbyes- rescheduled it for the next Saturday, and headed back to the dressing room to get all dolled up for the funeral. (After putting a reminder note to go get the blood work the next Thursday BEFORE the rescheduled MRI!)
As I walked back, there was a woman sitting on the dressing room couch (there are small rooms all around). I said hi, she did as well.. I was holding the two new bottles of contrast for my next MRI appointment (you drink the nasty mixture the night before and morning of the scan to help make your veins, etc more visible to the equipment) - I told her I'd just drank two of those for no reason.. she laughed and said yes, they're quite disgusting.. told her I was a four-year cancer survivor.. she looked sad, said congratulations and then "I hope to be a cancer survivor" - I told her she would be, and that I'd keep her in my prayers...But I remember being where she is now, and understood her trepidation. I then turned to my dressing room to get suited up for what was sure to be a sad day.
So, originally I wasn't even sure that I'd get TO the funeral - I knew the tests wouldn't take long, so I assumed traffic would be the worst part of it.. I actually got to my cousin Alan's house in Simi Valley about 10 minutes after Tricia and Sam - perfect timing.. We followed the limo with my Dad, Aunts, Cousins, etc. in it to the cemetery for the funeral.
We got there, and were ushered into the family room.. they made the announcement that they were going to do the identification process, and that any family members who wanted to say goodbye could come to the 'chapel' area for the opening of the casket. Much to my surprise (not the last time today, mind you) Sam said he wanted to go with me to say goodbye. (!) Gulp! I wasn't sure what to think.. but you know what, he was strong-willed, and I would certainly have regrets if I didn't let him, being his last chance to do so.. so I walked him into the other room, not quite knowing what I'd find there.
You have to understand, that growing up as a child I do not have any memory of funerals, as we weren't even allowed to go to them. I went on Sh'va calls as a child (lots of good food, lots of sad family wearing black are my memories of these times) on a number of occasions, visiting to pay respects, etc.. but I don't recall ever GOING to a funeral until my Aunt Gert passed away during college. So I KNOW that I never had any experience even CLOSE to what my son was about to go through.
We entered the area where the casket was, and Dad, Aunt Joanie, Aunt Ellene, the cousins (Cheryl and Alan - Ellene and Mort's grown children) were there along with the Rabbi and the lady from the funeral home. And now Sam and I holding hands. I kept him towards the back, away from everyone until the rest of the family had a chance to say their initial goodbyes. Then I left him in the back with Tricia, went up to say goodbye myself (again, not sure if I've ever experienced THAT before either, but I did then, and was glad to have) and then went back to get Sam for his turn. I sent him up to my Dad who was near the foot of the casket - he went up, held my Dad's hand, looked at Uncle Morty laying there, bowed his head sadly, waved, said 'Good Bye' and came back to me and Tricia for a hug... he didn't cry, but I could tell it got to him. I was so proud of him that moment to do such a 'Big Boy' thing on his own, of his OWN conviction.. amazing.
And I'll tell you this - my Aunt Joan was not at ALL happy with our choice to bring Sam to the funeral in the first place, and especially not to let him see Uncle Morty. But she and my Dad were raised in another time with different thoughts on children who should not be seen or heard in certain circumstances - and she let us know her displeasure. Which I respected her opinion, but he's still my son, and we as parents made our own decision.
The service was nice - it was just family, and a handful of close friends. The Rabbi screwed up the family name a few times (in his defense, the lady from the funeral home was said to have written it down as "Tittle".. not the first time we'd heard that one, believe me!) and mentioned Carl, my Uncle, instead of my Dad's name... but Cousin Alan fixed that when he got up to speak about his Dad.
Some truly heartfelt things were said, and to be honest what made me cry wasn't again the fact of what was said, but in my mind the CONTEXT it was being said.. this could be MY eulogy that I was listening to... he was a good man, a hard worker, took care of his family, loved to paint, etc.. Yeah - copy, paste, extend.. could be me.. a little spooky.. But then when Cousin Cheryl got up to speak about her Dad.. well, it was really sad.. Talking about how he wasn't always emotionally there for her, but in the end it was like a switch was flipped, and he told her how much he loved her, held her hand, etc. She said it was the best gift he'd ever given her. MAN was that sad - and it made me then and there continue my resolve to NOT be the guy who worked hard, but the guy who showed his emotions, even the bad ones.. but to wait until the last possible moment.. seems too late to me.
Then it was time to go to the grave site. I was honored with the task of being one of the pallbearers with my Dad. It was an honor to be there for my Uncle, and whilst I can honestly say it was not on my list of things to do on my bucket list, I was and am proud to have been there for my Uncle's last trip to his final resting place.
Once we took the short drive to the site, everyone got out and we moved the casket into position, where it was lowered amongst prayers, etc. Then the Jewish (perhaps other religions as well?) tradition of shoveling dirt onto the casket (3 shovel-fulls we were told) took place, and any of the mourners present could come to do this honor. The Rabbi described it as a selfless act - one where we did not expect any reciprocation for the act being performed. And I thought that was pretty cool. And once again, my son wanted to take part - he came up with me to the side of the grave, helped me hold the shovel, as we placed three upside-down* shovelfuls of dirt onto my Uncle's casket. (*Upside-down is to represent using the shovel in a way it's not meant to be used - to show our displeasure in having to perform the act at that time, that place.) Another proud Dad moment - what a champ.
Sam was starting to get tired - the ceremony wrapped up and we headed back to Cousin Alan's house for food, and to spend time with the family, then headed home after a long day. Dad would come home later to sleep, but wanted to stay longer to comfort the family.
Quite the full day, and some important lessons learned reflecting in on my own life's actions - it's never too late to do the things you want to do, say the things you want to say, or be the person you want to be - remember that.
Thanks for reading along and sharing the experience.
-Pittle out.
