Anna at the Casket

All of our lives we try to prepare ourselves for being role models.  The first thing that mothers strive to be I believe are role models.  Of course we are caretakers, nurturers, shoulders to cry on, advice givers, etc.  Life will always throw a curve ball.  As mothers we try to predict it, brace for it , get the right size mit and control the weather!  I actually envision a situation before to better deal with it in real time., practice so to speak. Well, life cannot always be “practiced.”  Sometimes it does not work . . . 

As I worked the funeral for a dear family friend, a man whom I knew, had conversations with, and ate cake at birthday parties with., I was doing my job, my career, what I do most days.  Yes, I blogged about this man last week and his dying wish to see Anna.  It filled my heart and soul as Anna is not usually the chosen one.  She usually is just there, being her, rattling and being a companion to all those around her.  She doesn’t have many times of being called upon as just her. But his request was one of those times.

Paul brought Anna into the funeral home.  I was excited to see her.  I was excited to introduce her to a few people, as a mother loves to do.  I decided to take her to Dave’s casket first.  You know, before the chapel gets crowded.  I wanted her to have her time and so we pushed her up front, not wanting her wheelchair to have to trek the whole length of the chapel.   I told Paul let’s go in the front doors.  He followed me.  I began to think about what was going to happen next.  

I took the handle and I pushed her forward.  I was suddenly aghast with emotion.  I looked at the casket and saw another man staring down at him, he knew him well.  He was laying his arm on his chest, a final farewell with his arm in motion.  A long stare down at his friend.  A head bowed in despair. The room was loud but totally quiet in my head. Then I gave Anna her turn, her view, her friend laying there, her time to pay her respects.  I had never done this before.  The only person Anna went up to a casket for was her friend Luke.  This was hard, but Luke never talked to her.  Luke never asked to see her on his dying bed, Luke never said, “How’s my girlfriend?”  I suddenly could not comfort Anna, in fact I was happy she had no idea that my whole throat was closed up like a locked gate.  I blinked back tears, hoping Paul was not going to try to talk to me.  I was unable to regulate the flood of everything coming to me.  I could not speak at all.  Anna screamed out in joyful tones.  She flailed her arms.  I thought to myself, “Thank God I don’t have to help her do this, she’s doing it all alone.”  I thought about Dave noticing she was there, yes I know he is not there. However, I always think the dead are happy that people come and give their time to them in that last home of theirs, the casket.  Soon more people came and it was time to move around the chapel.  I was hot and cold at the same time, I was breathing again in slow amounts.  I was pleased with Anna and surprised at what overcomes us as Warrior moms.  She’s 23 and I’ve never been unable to console her (not that she ended up needed it).  In all honesty this was a perfect and beautiful encounter, just like loss is supposed to be, unpredictable and full of emotions.  

That night, alone in my home on the couch with Paul across from me I asked him.  “Could you tell I was losing it at the casket with Anna?”  Poor Paul couldn’t answer because the paused pain and tears from hours before escaped like a Tsunami.  I sat there crying, overcome by parenting her in this loss and the idea of the loss of the man himself.  Unable to talk to her with her comprehending that I feel for her, and telling her she can lean on me. Paul looked at me lovingly, knowing he never had to answer my question.  Life continues on in the face of sorrow as we all know very well.  She teaches me every day.  

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