So, you go to the funeral home to arrange the funeral. Let's be real, who has any experience in what to do, let alone be able to think when your grief is eating not only your heart but your brain as well. You want to do things right, you don't even know what is right or wrong, but you are smart enough to know you don't get a "do over" if anything isn't decided at this time. The grieving party puts a lot of trust into what the funeral director is telling them. Not always a good idea, but all you can do is hope for someone to have suggested the right place to go and that they won't take advantage of you. Even with a very good friend to help you through this, realize that the good friend is experiencing the loss of her friend and is hurting too.
We are Jewish and I know we keep things somewhat simple and the burial happens as soon as possible. Well, it was Friday afternoon, we don't do burials on Saturdays, can't do them on Sundays since the people who prepare the ground are from the Catholic cemetery and they don't work on Sundays, so Monday morning it is. So, the funeral director knows from experience what the appropriate casket is, great, one less thing to discuss, they know who to contact for the plot at the Jewish cemetery too. Okay this is happening without a lot of decisions having to be made. Then the questions are asked, well I know they were asked, but at this time I would bet $1000 that I heard or understood the question they asked me that day. I guess they asked me if I wanted a side by side plot or one with a deeper stack-able plot. No one asked if I wanted a single plot. Planning my death was not on my agenda but I had not a thought at the time that there was another choice that was not being asked of me. So, I choose the less costly of my choices. I was numb, I was in shock, I was so full of grief I couldn't tell you my name. The only question I did hear was did you want to see him. Yes, I wanted to see him. No, I couldn't look at him dead. Yes, No. Who knew what I wanted. Then it hit me, if I didn't see him now I would never see him again. Yes, I said. The funeral director said he wouldn't let me look at him as he was right now. Come back in the morning and he will be ready for you to say good bye. I demanded to see him now, but they wouldn't let me. I'm sure there was a good reason, so I folded and said I would come back in the morning. I am forever thankful that I did. I hated seeing him dead. I hated that he wouldn't open his eyes ever again and hug and kiss me and tell me this was all a mistake and he was there for me, and that everything was alright. But I got to tell him good bye and that he was forever a part of me, and that no matter that it wasn't for long enough, I thanked him for showing me what true love was all about. It was hard to walk away, but at least I got to say good bye. I believe you need to do things so you don't regret an opportunity that may never be available again. This was one of those times. Kissing him one last time as he laid there asleep forever, I walked away from what I would say was as close to a perfect marriage as I would have ever dreamed. Good bye my beloved and best friend.
