Weddings and funerals

My cousin's daughter is getting married today, down here close to the cottage. Most of my children have gathered for the celebration and joy and excitement is in the air. It puts me in mind of my own wedding, my two children's weddings since Terry passed and of course funerals. Yes the whole life death cycle, it's true how closely they are connected - weddings and funerals. We've all heard the stories about how attending a funeral makes couples want to go home and fuck. How weddings bring out the best and worst in some people.

I was thinking the other day about Terry's funeral. How many people came, how I functioned in a state of semi-consciousness, how much of it I have forgotten and how much of it I never even experienced. How does that happen? Where does it go? This passing through life unaware or missing in action so to speak.

I have glimpses of that day. I believe that major life events such as these, when not fully realized or processed, get stuck in our bodies. Perhaps they come out as aches and pains, addictions, depression and even heart attacks. It's important to get it out. I have used this blog as a vehicle to heal from his death. It is true what I have recently read that we can rewrite our stories-they can heal us. I am not talking through my hat here, research backs this up and I feel it happening. So today I explore his funeral.

My first clear memory is of my sister and her group singing mine and Terry's song, Songbird. I remember walking down the aisle of the church with his ashes in my arms, their immense heaviness pulling my shoulders forward, and my children by my side. I remember my son's speech, my daughter's beautiful reading of the psalm, her beautiful tattoo on her leg glorious in color. My grand daughter Molly's soft white sweater and bouncing blond hair, like our girls hair when they were young, and how she won't remember her papa. I remember Terry's family in the row behind me, supporting me in their presence.

I am next in the church basement greeting all the people who came, they are hugging me, I am stoic, the good widow in her new black dress, heels and borrowed sheer black top to keep my arms warm. I am surprised by all the old coworkers I have not seen in years. How did they know? I marvel at all the food, who did that? I see Terry's nephew from out west who looks like a young Terry, the rock star version of him and my heart bleeds for the love we had, Terry and I, and I miss the sex so much already right there at his funeral's reception. How will I ever do without his love?

I laugh too uproariously at a joke my brother in law makes. It's a shared personal story about a time Terry's cell phone went off in the middle of a play in a tiny community theater at the most inopportune time. It reminds me of his silliness and how I'd been so embarrassed by him then and I immediately want to cry but I hang on. This is all I remember. I look at the guest book, I saw names of people I do not remember seeing there, I am sure I hugged them thanked them for coming but I don't remember. Where did I store all these lost moments of time and condolences?

Prior to the funeral my husband sister's family asked to take us all out to dinner on the night of the funeral. A real celebration, in the best restaurant in the city, they had limos to pick us up and wanted me to invite everyone I could possibly think of who I wanted there. I thought no, it's too extravagant, then I remembered Terry telling me sometimes it's in accepting gifts that we grow the most. So I agreed. I remember the limo driver holding an umbrella over my head to the car, a wickedly chilly rainy April night. I remember thinking oh what will the neighbors think? The widow heading into a stretch limo the night of her husband's funeral. I giggled inside knowing Terry would think it's funny. We had two limos meet us there. On the ride over we discovered the limo driver was named Terry, of course he was, yes we all celebrating and Terry working. It was a sign, his nod from the afterlife to us saying I am here still serving you all.

I remember that most extravagant dinner we all shared in my favorite Italian restaurant, the back room reserved only for us. Perhaps they knew my time of grief was coming but tonight we could celebrate him before that hit me. The dishes upon dishes arrived, the drinks flowed. Toasts were made to Terry, the love of all my family. The reminiscing so heartfelt. But I most clearly remember the speech by Terry's nephew, the rock star. He told me there were two Terry's, the one before he gave up drinking and the one after he met his angel. You were that angel for him. I remember this clearly, the teams brimming my eyes for the first time that day. Feeling so undeserved of his words but knowing it to be true. It was magic, it was healing-a gift for receiving something someone wanted to offer. Our waiter took this photo of us, we are all reeling from Terry's death, the grief not yet begun for me, but you can see the love of family here. It's a clear memory of that day that I wish to carry. It was a celebration. Almost like a wedding - filled with love - during a funeral.