It is not a cliché to say that a person is in a complete daze the first week following a shattering loss. The horrible thing about being in this daze is that you are still forced to make life long, non-reversible decisions such as cremation or burial, open casket or closed, whether or not Nathan should be allowed to see his Dad one last time, Catholic mass or not, reading selections, music selections, pallbearer selection, etc. On my best day, I would struggle with trying to make these decisions and here I was having to make them in a state of shock and sadness that my husband was gone. And every time I was asked to make a decision, all I wanted to say was I don’t want to do this!
As I walked into the funeral home for the first time, I thought this has to be someone else’s life. But there I was around the table discussing all things death with Gordie’s family. Thank god Jane was there to support me, sometimes literally.
Gordie always had a very cavalier attitude about discussing what he wanted me to do should he die first. His standard response was “what do I care? I’ll be dead”. That was so typical Gordie. So, I struggled to remember what I was able to pull out of him during those conversations. I told his family that I was 90% sure he wanted to be cremated but that I was a little unsure about doing that since my children were so young and I felt they needed a place to visit their Dad as they grew up. The funeral director told me we could bury his ashes in a cemetery if that’s what I wanted. I liked that idea but also struggled with thinking that Gordie would want his ashes scattered in a place of significance to him. My first thought in terms of a location was McCall Idaho, where we were married, or on a mountain in Colorado, where we had spent most of our short life together. Someone at the table, I do not remember who, suggested that we bury half of Gordie’s ashes in a local cemetery and that we scatter the other half. Pat said that we should scatter the ashes in the hills of the Estate because Gordie loved the Estate and the hills so much. Pat was right, Gordie loved his family’s estate and loved those hills where he spent so much time even more. But, I could not avoid the thought “but he died there”. Still, I agreed with the plan. I did not realize that it would be months before we scattered his ashes.
I wanted a Catholic funeral. Gordie was not Catholic, in fact he was never baptized, but before we married we had agreed to raise a Catholic family. I was raised Catholic and the high school we attended was a Catholic high school. We were married in a Catholic church and both of our sons were baptized Catholic. I preferred to have the funeral at the Catholic Church in the town next to ours: it was not our Parish but it was my parents’ Parish. I did not want to have the funeral in the church that we attended because I did not want Nathan to remember his Father’s funeral every time we attended church for the rest of his life. Jane called my parents’ church to see if they would do the funeral even though Gordie was not Catholic. They agreed to do it.
Ironically, the church we had selected was the church where Nathan had been baptized.
The other big decision was whether or not to do a viewing the night before the funeral. I was against it for two reasons. First, I am 100% certain that Gordie would have hated people looking at him in a casket. Second, I was already scared to death how I was going to make it through the funeral. How on earth would I be able to make it through two events?
Gordie’s family felt strongly about doing something the night before. We settled for a closed casket visitation at the funeral home. My only request was “can I bring my own music? “ Gordie would have hated the sad music that was playing at the funeral home that morning. The answer was yes.
The hardest moment for me that morning was walking into the room with the caskets. I walked in, looked at those things, and nearly vomited.
I told Gordie’s brother Pat “I can’t do this, you pick” and walked out.
I sat with Jane for a few minutes and then walked back in. Pat and Gordie’s parents had narrowed it down to two choices: I made the final choice and then walked out again.
I remember Pat said, “it looks like something Gordie would have made”. I actually smiled. He was right.
The last detail to be discussed was the reception, which we all agreed should be a Celebration of Life. Gordie’s Father was a long time member of a very nice country club in the area and the family (including Gordie, the kids, and me) had many memories at the club. Pat felt strongly that Gordie would have liked his Celebration of Life to be at the country club. Gordie’s Dad and Step-Mom volunteered to take care of it. I was so grateful. I did not have any planning or decision making left in me. I just wanted to go home.
Jane drove me home. My Mom and Dad were watching the boys. Nathan was very curious about where I had been. I told him. At that point I had decided to be as appropriately honest with him as I could. He had many, many questions about the details that we had just sorted through. He asked if his Dad was going to be “buried or burned”. His use of the word “burned” shocked me a little. I told him it was called cremation and asked him where he had heard about it and his response was “at school.” I was not that surprised given that he attends a Christian school. I told him that we had decided to cremate Daddy and bury half of his ashes in the cemetery that was in town and scatter the other half of the ashes in the hills behind the Estate. I asked Nathan if that plan sounded OK to him and he nodded.
He then said “I want to see Daddy before we burn him.” My heart sank.
Looking back three months later, this is the only area where I think I made the wrong decision. I felt strongly that Nathan should not see Gordie’s body for three reasons. First, I believed, and still do, that Gordie would not have wanted his son to see him dead and have that as his last vision of him. Second, Gordie was about to undergo an autopsy and I was very concerned that he would not look the same after, a concern that turned out to be valid. Third, I just did not think it was appropriate for a six year old boy to see a dead body, especially that of his Father.
“Nathan, I’m not going to let you see Daddy’s body”, I said
“Why not?” he asked
“Because Daddy would not want you to see him like this. He would want you to remember him the way that you do now, the way that he looked the night before he died when he was practicing baseball with you, or the last time you saw him when he dropped you off at school the day he died”, I replied.
“But I want to see him”, Nathan protested.
“But don’t you want to honor what Daddy would have wanted?” I asked.
“OK” he said but I could hear the resistance in his voice.
It was not until months later that I started to question my decision based on what I was reading in books, literature from my support group, and conversations with the Grief Counselor who Nathan and I were both seeing. According to all of those sources, seeing the body can be a way for children to understand the finality of death. Nathan also told me several times after all was said and done that he wished that I had let him see Gordie’s body.
Even today, I do not know if I made the right decision. I repeatedly think about it and question my decision. However, I do believe, without a doubt, that Gordie would not have wanted Nathan to see him that way and that is what keeps me from agonizing about whether or not I screwed up.
The final trip in preparing for the services was the meeting with the Catholic Church. Gordie’s Mom, Dad, Step-Mom and Brother went with me. Again, I was in a fog with a voice in my head on a continuous loop asking, is this real? Within minutes my phone starting lighting up with texts. Jane and Brenda were texting me recommendations for readings and songs. I actually smiled. My Catholic Besties knew that I was not the greatest Catholic and that I would have no idea what to pick and what Gordie would have been OK with. The Coordinator at the church would provide me with some choices, I would look at my texts and then make the choice. My friends had it covered, just like they had everything else covered.
At one point, I hit my max. I could not do it anymore. The Coordinator suggested that we make a program. I said no. I could not handle it. She said they would put together something to hand out hand that listed the readings and songs. I said fine. I was done. I wanted to go home.
There was one thing left that I wanted to do once I got home and I wanted to do it with Greg, Gordie’s best friend. I wanted to make the music for the visitation. Only Greg and I would know what music Gordie loved and what he would want played at the first night of his send off. We gathered around the kitchen table at my parents’ house with my Mac and iTunes account. We started writing down bands and songs that Gordie loved. Big Head Todd. Dave Matthews Band. U2. The Police. Pearl Jam. Lenny Kravitz. Bruce Springsteen. Cold Play. Kid Rock. And of course we had to find something from Frank Sinatra, one of Gordie’s most favorite artists. We chose “Fly Me to the Moon”. Then we added songs that we thought were appropriate for the occasions. The Samples “We are Shaking”. Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide”. The Blues Traveler’s “The Mountains Win Again”. Eddie Money “My Friends, My Friends”. REM “Nightswimming”. We remembered concerts that the three of us had attended together. We reminisced about other memories tied to the songs. And, we cried. Wow, did we cry.
The playlist from Gordie’s visitation is still on my iPod today. I listen to it when I want to feel close to him and to this day, I still cry when I listen to it. Music was a big part of our lives together. We both loved music, we attended many concerts together, and we had introduced the boys to our love of music from birth.
About a week after Gordie died, Nathan was playing with my iPad and went into my iTunes account. He asked me which songs in my library Gordie liked. I sat down and pointed to some of his Dad’s favorite songs. I then started to take care of some things around the house. Nathan stayed in my room listening to all of the songs that I had pointed out. Nathan became addicted to my iPad and iPod, not for the games, but for the music. It became his way of dealing with the pain and, I believe, his way of feeling close to Gordie. He would listen to music on one of those devices for hours, in my room or even in the car. For weeks and months he would ask me “Did Daddy like this song?” and then file it into his brain. It took me a while to realize that he was making playlists with all the songs that I told him Daddy loved. It was then that I realized what I was going to get him for his birthday, which was 2.5 months after Gordie died.