The Funeral "Process"

I had attended funerals before. "Attended", being the operative word. But, I had never had to help attend to a funeral. There's a lot that goes on that the average "funeral goer" doesn't think about - and you shouldn't - it's morbid. But, when you are directly connected to the task - it is quite a process to digest.

The sheer undertaking (no pun intended here) of the task is stressful, tiresome, sad, scary, and to be quite frank, intimidating. It has a way of making you face your own mortality - like it or not - you can't escape the truth when you are in this situation. I do know God is good and protects the ignorant - He protected me thru this whole ordeal. He had plans for me. I'm glad He did!

After the initial shock of mom's sudden death - which is no less painful, from accounts that I've heard than losing someone that has suffered from a long illness - the process begins. I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of folks - friends and relatives - that we had to contact.
And. . . . relive the whole ordeal over and over again. That in itself was enough to make you want to throw in the towel, crawl in a hole, and leave the cold cruel world behind. (People are just curious about death, I suppose.) And those calls had to include: funeral directors, pastors, and pall bearers.

Amidst the calls, after you've decided on the funeral home, comes "the visit" to such said place.
May I just say, if you've never done this, DO NOT go alone! Unless of course you have nerves of steel. But do take someone who has nerves of steel with you, if you can. It helps a lot. An awful lot. We did not have nerves of steel in our little group. Nope, just horrified, sad, uneducated (in my case) mourners. Death is definitely a business - I see that as I look back. First we had to write the obituary - with the funeral director's help, we had to get a death certificate, then we had to secure "the final resting place". Thank the Lord dad already had plots. Oh, and let's not forget how we are going to pay for all this. After all, dying isn't "free". Then came the part where nerves of steel are needed. We had to take the long, short walk down the basement steps to pick out her casket. Good gravy, Marie! There was quite a collection. Hm. Not to be trite, but who's going to see it after the funeral? Not me! I'm not bunking down beside her for a view. Nope. I'll wait - for a long, long time. Hopefully the Lord will come back first. Anyway - we settled on one that had little lilacs on the lining - that's all I remember about that because I was too busy looking over my should for, well, you know, stuff. On a side note here: DO NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT let them tell you about their "business", unless you want nightmares for the rest of your life! Understand?

Back home our task for the funeral home was to have pall bearers lined up and have an outfit picked out for mom. Now this is wonky - but we put her lavender. A woman has to match her surroundings, after all she will be living with it for eternity!

We also had the task of tending to out of town family members, meals and our own daily lives.
Some of the family members thought they were on vacation and expected "room service". Excuuuse me? If it hadn't been for Aunt Bobbie I think we kids would have gone insane. She came in, took charge and let us have our melt downs. She handled the busy stuff at dad's so we could handle the important things. I love(d) this woman.

Alas, the funeral is looming down upon us. . . . . .