Part 13: Saying Goodbye
It's rather ironic that part 13 just happened to be the funeral part. I must be lucky. Or unlucky. Or perhaps luck has nothing to do with it. Perhaps I just Am. God said that. He said "I AM". Makes more sense now… and no, I'm not equating myself to God or trying to downgrade his wondrous statement, it just so happened to make me go "hmmm".
Things that make you go hmmm….
So it's Thursday. The day we lay our daughter to rest. Or well, the day we put a silver cup into the ground and pay our respects to the daughter that never got to be.
I wondered how the day would go. I wondered if anyone would attend the funeral/memorial. Who on earth would WANT to attend a memorial that's so sad? Shoot… maybe no one will really come. Just the family…. just the people who feel "obligated".
I guess I should wear black. Seems fitting. It's all just a blur really. I really wanted to wear purple, seeming that the high school sorta took on the wear purple campaign. My aunt found a scarf for me at Wal-Mart…. that'll work, I supposed.
Not that I know how to fold/hang/wear those silly things. I am sooooo not the fashionista. I'm not completely "What not to wear" material, but don't look to me for fashion inspiration, that's for sure.
So I'm running around trying to get pictures for the display at the funeral. Again, who thinks to get newborn photos done the FIRST WEEK? With the help of the hospital staff, I was able to get in touch with the photographer who takes the pictures in the hospital, and she was hopefully having prints overnighted to the church. Hopefully.
But I had a plan B. I always do. Can't have my baby in a tiny jar smaller than a dollar bill sitting on a table with no picture. That's worse than a small casket.
So why no casket, you wonder? I didn't think I could handle it. I think caskets are a foolish expense. You're in the ground, the Bible says Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust… and yet you spend thousands of dollars on this box within a box that is indestructible. Why? I didn't even want the pewter urn thing. Seriously, just like on the movie, I was fine with a ziploc bag. I could then dump the contents in the hole in the ground.
Yes, I opened the urn. I wondered what "ashes" looked like. Well, I got my answer.
Cat litter. The cheap kind that doesn't clump very well. Not sandy…. more like little bitty chips.
I'm not sure what I expected… I guess I sorta thought it would be like campfire ashes or fireplace ashes. They seriously could have just filled that urn with cat litter and I'll never know the difference. Perhaps they did just that. Maybe not. Who knows? Too late to change my mind now.
Looking back, would I have chosen differently? Only if there was such thing as a biodegradable casket. Looking at cat litter took all the emotion out of it. Perhaps a casket would have held more meaning for me. Either way, she was going in the ground. I thought about opening the urn and dumping that, but that didn't seem like the politically correct thing to do either.
So anyhow, we're running late. Yep, late to my own daughter's funeral. Still have to stop at Walgreens and pick up "backup" pictures in case the nice ones haven't arrived at the church.
We get down the street and realize someone vitally important to the day is not with us.
Yep, I admit it. We left Addy at home on the table.
Go ahead, laugh. You know you want to. It is pretty funny, actually. At least we didn't get ALL the way to the church.
Hubby pulls a u-turn, we rescue Addison from the table and are on our way once again. Stop at Walgreens and pick up pictures, making it to the church just in time.
There are flowers everywhere. I guess it doesn't matter if you put "In lieu of flowers" or not, there are still people who send flowers.
Flowers from my pediatrician, flowers from the hospital, flowers from my stepmother's work, flowers from my doctor, flowers flowers everywhere.
They've set up a table at the front. I put Addy's blanket and urn on it. There's absolutely no way that I can arrange it so she doesn't look so small. We put an 8x10 photo next to it. Still looks horrible, but what can I do? I can't magically make it larger.
I should've gotten the $300 box. At least it would have been bigger.
We set out our traditional autograph frame. Each of our children has one. I write their name and birth info on the mat and have nurses, doctors, friends and family sign it. Eventually, I'll put a picture in the frame and actually hang it on the wall. Shoot, at least I have three frames with signatures….
People begin arriving. And arriving. And arriving. So many people. An incredible amount of people. People I know, many that I don't know. Tons of students from Madison Academy, all wearing some form of purple.
Family friends from Atlanta. Old coworkers. Rugby teammates. Friends from a Bible Study I attended.
Most surprising? Roger Lang.
We attended the same high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman. We were both in marching band. When I began my first "job" job at Dairy Queen, he was my trainer. Incredibly patient with me and quite a talented ice cream cone maker.
We weren't BFFs. The only similar crowd we had was marching band… he was four years older than me. We reconnected through Facebook. We didn't email, message, talk on the phone…. we were just "connected".
He drove 4 hours from Atlanta to attend the memorial service. I recognized him immediately and was overcome with emotion. I couldn't believe that my daughter's death was that significant to him. I was humbled. You never know the impact you have on others…
The church was packed. PACKED. It fits somewhere in the 3-500 range.
PACKED.
I guess that many people wanted to get out of school early, huh? Just kidding. I couldn't believe the crowd…. it was huge.
The funeral began with our slideshow. We chose Casting Crown's "Praise You in this Storm" to play while the pictures ran….
It didn't take long for the tears to begin. I'm not sure there was a dry eye anywhere. The song is incredibly powerful…. here are the lyrics…
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I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus:]
And I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away
[Chorus]
I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth
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Sorry if I made you cry…. if you didn't want to cry, you probably should stop reading this story. I'm not trying to be mean or rude, just stating a fact. It's a tearjerker story. It just is.
The funeral continues. There's a few songs here and there… then the Pastor gets up and reads the obituary. That long thing…. it cost so much money and gee, did I really have to put all those surviving names in there? Didn't make sense after the fact. Oh well.
He then delivers a short "message"… telling us we have support and the church is behind us… remarking on the families of Madison Academy and how they've surrounded us in love an prayer.
Then, he calls me quirky.
Quirky? Me?
Now, I've been called many things…. bubbly, OCD, Creative, idealistic, direct, no filter …. but quirky? Ooookkkay… if you say so I guess.
So he finishes with his part and my brother-in-law goes up to deliver the "main" message. He's a Baptist preacher, and this is a Church of Christ church….. I wonder how this will go.
The first words out of his mouth after he thanks everyone for coming….
I'm not Granville.
For those of you who were there, you've started laughing already…. for those of you who weren't there but know my family, you're probably laughing. The rest of you, let me help you….
My husband is a twin. They were never declared identical or fraternal, but if you mix them up… to me they are identical. Shoot, I think they're identical.
So as people start laughing, he explains that he's incredibly sorry to have misled so many… but it was just easier to go with it and thank them for coming then to stand their and correct person after person. He then felt convicted to "come clean" when addressing the congregation. Yep, pretty funny. We definitely needed that after such a tearjerker slide show.
He remarked on our strength and our faith. He told the story of David and Bathesheba, how they lost their son at 7 days old. 2 Samuel 12:16-17 states,
David prayed to God for the baby. David fasted and went into his house and stayed there, lying on the ground all night. 17 The elders of David’s family came to him and tried to pull him up from the ground, but he refused to get up or to eat food with them.
Then in verse 20, after he found out the baby died, here's what happens…
20 Then David got up from the floor, washed himself, put lotions on, and changed his clothes. Then he went into the Lord’s house to worship. After that, he went home and asked for something to eat. His servants gave him some food, and he ate.
21 David’s servants said to him, “Why are you doing this? When the baby was still alive, you fasted and you cried. Now that the baby is dead, you get up and eat food.”
22 David said, “While the baby was still alive, I fasted, and I cried. I thought, ‘Who knows? Maybe theLord will feel sorry for me and let the baby live.’ 23 But now that the baby is dead, why should I fast? I can’t bring him back to life. Someday I will go to him, but he cannot come back to me.”
I saw the connection. We got up the next day and went to the Lord's house to worship. This was the first time I'd ever heard the story….
Well good… at least I did SOMETHING right.
We headed to the cemetery after the funeral. I hadn't expected so many people to want to attend that portion too…. it was a mad scramble to get everyone directions. A difficult place to find if you're not local to the area.
I passed out flower clippings to all the female family members I could recognize…. and there were so many I didn't know. How embarrassing. We just figured on 20 or so people being at the gravesite and that we'd toss in a flower, say a prayer and be done with it…. oh no… lots more than that.
I brought a few things to put in the grave. The urn, of course… a purple scarf, and her pacifier duck. We said a prayer and everyone started putting in their flowers. I go to put my things in, and you hear Abigail say, "that's baby's zip".
Oh dear Lord…. Abigail was only 2… just turned 2 a month prior. She recognized the duck pacifier and knew exactly who it belonged to. (We call them all "zip" because they literally "zip" up the child…) Yep, I'm crying all over again. I dry it up quickly though… and put on a happy face. Or perhaps a "sober" face. No one needs to see me lose it. Won't help anything.
So baby girl has now been laid to rest. Or buried in the ground. Or properly memorialized. Whatever you call it. It's a hole to me…. a big gaping hole… even if it's only a foot or so deep and wide.
Represents the hole in my heart. The emptiness. The pain and sorrow. Will it ever close? Will there be someone later to replace it? Will God really heal my wounds? Will good come of this?
Why oh why did this happen? What did I do to deserve this? Why? Why me? Why us?
