The Funeral Home
Driving from the airport to my parent's home was numbing. I am not sure how I got from Point A to Point B except for the wake up calls of stopping for Chicago $5.00 tolls. My mind flashed to seeing my mom and dad throwing in some coins at the toll when I was a little girl and now it is a wad of cash.
I got to my childhood home and mom was busy cleaning. It is the one Holmgren thing we do when we try to process tragedy. I remember in my junior year of high school, some girls trashed the outside of our house, and the inside was immaculate with funneling the trauma into vacuuming and scrubbing floors.
When I arrived to the house, I gave my mom a hug, and went into the bathroom where my dad had passed. As weird as it may sound, I wanted to be where the last place he was. I laid on the bathroom tiled floor and looked up. What did he see before he died. Though I was very angry with God, even trying to process the event...something, someone told me while I laid there that the bathroom was not the last thing he saw. He saw beauty and something we could never describe but only feel when our Lord calls us home. I wanted to be by my dad's bedside when he would be called home someday, but with that frustration - God reminded me that my dad was His child, and He wanted to be next to Him when he took Him home, and no one else. I couldn't explain how God spoke to me when I tried to shut Him out...but He did.
We met my sister at the cemetery to pick a plot for dad's resting place, and headed to the funeral home to take care of the arrangements. A lot to take in, and all I wanted was to hug my husband and kids. Look forward to watching some Office if my mom had enough internet connection for NetFlix. The funeral home had two Dachshunds, I watched them walk around and I felt a little lighter in that heavy funeral home room. The dogs reminded me of my husband. He doesn’t like dogs, but that ‘hot dog’ dog is his favorite pup and I was happy to take a picture and maybe send something fun from a funeral home. I waited to get a call back from my husband with the details of when their plane lands, or deciding to drive, and after we were picking out dad’s casket...I got the call. I got the second worse call. The first was to my husband to tell me my dad died. And now my husband called to say three words "I can't leave" He told me he could not come to the funeral. I was confused and just stared at that thick carpet in the funeral home, just like I went to the moment I stared at the carpet in our bedroom when I found out dad died. I could not process my husband's words...again.
Why? Why would you not come? But the level of stress with COVID and the unknown was very clear, and the choice to stay with the kids was a hard one but it was what was thought to be best. I was angry. I didn’t want to be angry at a virus, I wanted to be angry at a person, or something physical. I thought 'Am I going to be a pallbearer? No one is coming to my father's wake and funeral when he stood out in blazing sun and rain to pay respects for people in our town. I wanted to say 'Screw COVID, and get here to help bury my dad! Don't you or the kids want to be here for me? Or to say bye to the man that gave me away to you? Or the kids to say bye to their fave Papa John?"
The truth is it was mere 6 months prior to my dad’s death and he lost his own uncle to COVID. There was not much we knew in 2020 and being that close to death and COVID - it was a decision that was made. After returning and telling my family that my husband and kids will not be there, I began to 'not give a sh!t’. While the pastor and family were picking out hymns to sing at the funeral, I said sarcastically I wanted 'Elvira' by the Oak Ridge Boys. That song, my dad's song that I deleted off my playlist now was what escaped my mouth. Of course, it was not picked, and How Great Thou Art was the winner - but I thought it was funny how I was so angry to hear that song to delete it off my playlist, to then speak it hours later. God was at work, even when I was angry about my family not being there, angry about COVID, and angry that my dad was gone, "Elvira" came up and gave me a smile in that stuffy funeral home.
