I arrived at the funeral home a bit before the public part of the wake, so I waited in my car, to give the immediate family more time. When I walked inside, I didn’t immediately see my friend, and didn’t recognize anyone. Eventually, I saw her mom seated in the front row, but I felt awkward about saying anything to her mom, without her. Her mom has always been super sweet to me. I guess I just didn’t know what to do. I really should have offered proper condolences, immediately.
My friend Neva and I found each other eventually, after I had signed the guest book, and picked up one of the memento cards they had made, with a deer standing proud, in the snow, on the front, and a photo of her dad and an accompanying poem, on the back.
Not a photo of the actual card, as that didn’t feel right to me, versus just sharing the poem, but here’s something to recreate the vibe…
"The Spirit World has called
for me...
As we all must face this destiny...
On the wings of an Eagle
I'll fly away...
I know we'll meet again one day...
I'll miss you all so very dear...
But in your hearts
I am with you here...
To my family and people
You are the best...
Don't cry for me, as I only rest..."
Apparently, he was an avid hunter, and even won a contest for a buck he’d brought down.
My friend works at a Native gift shop, which she will soon be largely running. She’d brought a Native-design blanket from the inventory she sells there, and draped it over the bottom half of the casket. She’d also nestled a stuffed animal eagle, a little beagle dog, and a die-cast car in with her dad. She didn’t clarify the eagle. I’m not sure if it was just there because of tribal symbolism? But the dog, he’d once had a beagle he loved dearly. And he’d collected die-cast cars.
The last hour of the viewing, they played recordings of various songs in the Oneida language. There was an Oneida flag on display behind him, as well, but evidently, that’s the property of the funeral home. Neva told me pretty much everyone from the tribe who died, had their wake at this particular funeral home. It isn’t Native-owned, but I guess it’s conveniently located.
It’s funny that I had mentioned John Wick in my previous post. She’s a fan of all those movies, too. Don’t know if she’s seen Ballerina yet. I haven’t, but I eventually will. Anyway she mentioned John Wick twice today, mostly in reference to her dad’s gun collection, some of which I guess is still at the house. Almost feels like a shared wavelength situation. Who knows? Maybe it was.
She saw my cellphone’s lock-screen of me appearing posed with the cast of The Lost Boys and thought it was pretty cool. I told her how I’d done it, and she said she probably would have done the same thing, with a John Wick poster. So I guess that makes a total of three times she mentioned those movies today.
I stayed the whole three hours of the viewing. She mingled with family, and friends of family. We weren’t by any means joined at the hip the whole time.
Neva showed me the photo collage she’d put together on a board provided by the funeral home. Family members selected some photos to take home, at the end, as she and her mom and her cousin were disassembling it.
There was coffee and bottled water and cookies provided. She told me they could have opted for some kind of catered meal, but I guess they decided against that. The potluck after the burial should be good, however.
I helped myself to some coffee. First coffee I have had in forever, as it sometimes seems to upset me. But I managed just fine today. And I had an M ‘n’ M’s and chocolate chip cookie. Just one. To tide me over until the restaurant, after.
Apart from me, her only other friend who attended was Tom. And I guess Tom has to work tomorrow and can’t make the burial. But I will be there. So thankful I got some help from coworkers, to cover for me.
When it was time for the viewing to wrap up, she tucked her dad in with the blanket, and Tom and I helped carry out the plants and bouquets that had been donated, along with her cousin. One was from Neva, and one from her mom, but the rest came from friends and family. She and her mom both chose plants, embedded in soil, as they would last longer than cut flowers. Something to remember him by.
She told him goodbye, that she would see him soon, that they would take good care of the house. She and I had stepped outside a few different times, so she could get fresh air and maybe take a break. When it was just us, I told her I was sorry. She appreciated that, and thanked me more than once for coming, that it meant a lot that I was there. I told her I wouldn’t have missed it, that I knew she’d do it for me. And she said, “Yes, I will be there.”
After that, I told her about my observations of my last photo of my mom, how she looked so sad, and tired, and old. And how that made me feel. We talked about aging, and death, and grief. I would say she gave me support today, too, during that conversation.
She even complimented my shirt, and asked if I had bought it at work, and told me again how nice it looked, before we parted ways, and I drove home. I told her I would likely wear the same thing tomorrow, and she laughed. But she’d said it was just perfect. That made me feel really good, as I had put a lot of thought into my look for today, even if I didn’t have a whole lot of suitable things to choose from.
At one point, we saw Tom outside smoking, and she tried to talk me into sharing a bummed cigarette with her, but Tom finished smoking before we got to him. We were stopped by some of her relatives, and engaged in conversation.
I don’t know if I would have done it, anyway. Maybe? Out of empathy?
I haven’t had a cigarette in years. Sometimes, back in the day, she and I would buy a pack to split, or else just split a single cigarette, passing it back and forth.
When I told her I didn’t think I’d ever met her dad, she said she thought I might have, once, back when we were still working together at the seasonal Halloween store, and I had come inside to say hello before she and I hit the town. I hope she’s right.
After the viewing, she and Tom and I and her mom, one of her cousins, and her cousin’s boyfriend, all met up at a Mexican restaurant down the road. I had the Big Burrito Cancun. They described all the burritos as involving “large tortillas,” so I don’t think it was actually bigger than any of the rest of them. This one involved a cheese sauce, and chicken and shrimp, and rice, and all kinds of things, with lettuce, tomato, and sour cream on the side.
It was delicious. And as I hadn’t had much to eat up until then, I managed to finish it. I let my napkin fall to my plate like a mic drop. Neva saw me, and said, “You did it! Man vs. Food!” “And I won,” I said.
I managed to only get one speck of salsa tomato on my shirt, which didn’t even leave a noticeable mark, once I noticed it and wiped it away. And Tom shared the guacamole he ordered separately, for everyone to dip into, with the basket of chips. They brought the customary free salsa to the table, but also a small dish of hot refried beans, which were quite tasty.
I’ve taken to eating messy food with a napkin in one hand and fork in the other, keeping the napkin under my fork, as I bring the food up to my mouth. Quite effective. I’m somewhat of a sloppy eater, I guess.
One of my meds can cause the shakes. I don’t remember which one. I do sometimes have trembling in my hands but oddly only notice it when eating chips and dip. Apart from then, I think my hands are mostly steady. Tonight, I did okay.
The restaurant even had tiny packs of gum, like square, candy-coated pieces, lined up with four or five to a pack, covered in cellophane, so the bright colors showed through. Different flavors. At the checkout. For 25 cents a pack. I almost bought one. After all, I had on a whim also packed my change purse. Maybe next time. It was a pretty good restaurant. Probably closer for me than where Neva is staying with her mom, but we might get back there.
She invited me back to her mom’s house for a small bonfire in the backyard, but I was already pretty beat and declined. But she said we could save it for tomorrow, since everyone is meeting back there, after the burial, anyway.
I suppose I could pick up S’mores supplies? Since she said she’d have another fire? I don’t know. I’ll see what I’m up to, tomorrow. I should really gas up the car before I head over there, too. It’s a-ways out, from my place.
Called my mom when I got home. Not sure if my dad was home, too, but she was the one who answered the phone. I told her some of what I’ve described here. She said to pass on her condolences to Neva and to say she hopes Neva’s able to help her mom.
I just really wanted to touch base with at least one if not both of my parents, afterward. And I told my mom I loved her, which isn’t something I do very often. There’s a lot of baggage there. But I’m trying.
Also checked in with kiddo, before and after, and my long-distance bestie.
Heavy day and night, for sure, even if I’m not the one going through it, directly. But I’m still extremely grateful I could be there, that I can be there again tomorrow.
I also checked in very briefly with my workplace bestie, and thanked her for agreeing to come in an hour early, to help cover a little bit of a coverage gap, since the woman filling in for me tomorrow can’t stay for my entire original shift.
Maybe try if you can to show a little extra appreciation to your friends and loved ones, merely for being there. For being. It’s important. As Neva said, no one knows how much time they’ll have to say those things, how long others will have to say them, back. Love is vital. It’s what makes the world go round.
And thank you, to you all, regardless of how casual or occasional of a reader you may be. I do this for me, and would keep doing it even if it went entirely unread, even knowing kiddo will probably never check it out, and maybe not many people in my life do. The self-expression does me good.
So, again, thank you.
All the Bright and Sparkly Things 
Leave a comment