The Symphony of Suck

Get up, eat, shower, get into my widow’s weeds, apply “cry-proof” mascara (L’Oreal Double Extend Tubes Mascara), and go over the funeral home. 

HIS family was already there and I spent some time with them, then the place started to fill up. It really was a bit overwhelming how many people showed up, some of whom we hadn’t seen in years. I walked around and was hugged, petted and generally mauled by people offering their condolences.

Thank God P, C, K and life-long friend M where there, I tried to keep my inappropriate comments to them….’course that didn’t always work and it didn’t stop other people from being themselves either.

Fashion crimes strike funeral home!

I can forgive a 17 year old for wearing a black tube top, skinny jeans and platform sandals to the funeral. Especially that 17 year old since she basically raised herself.

I can almost forgive a 27 year old for wearing a little halter top and skinny jeans at the funeral because she’s small town, clearly knows no better and watches Jersey Shore. What I can’t wrap my head around is the sheer-ish pink blouse one guest wore. I mean if she was the kookie flamboyant type I would have written it off as just “that’s who she is”, but she’s not. I mean, hellooooo, a plain dark t-shirt would have worked fine. It was just weird, and wrong. What’s weirder is I’m willing to bet that’s her “go to” outfit for dates.

And look what the cat dragged in, divorced cousin in law who likes to invite herself to family events even ‘tho she’s no longer in the family. She’s been divorced out of my Dad’s side of the family for at least 10 years, and it’s very possible that the last time she saw HIM was at our wedding 17 years ago. Apparently she has a habit of showing up at family events via her adult children in a desperate play to be still included into a family that was glad to see her go. I saw her out of the corner of my eye and started moving counter-clockwise around the funeral home in a bid to avoid her. Unfortunately she cornered me by the guest book and I was forced to acknowledge her. I accepted her condolences but what I really wanted to say was “Why the fuck are you here?”

Dad and D both did a really great job of the eulogies. I don’t know how they did it, I couldn’t have. As it was I sat in a chair and shredded Kleenex that then became useless for the gooey mess I was becoming. (But the mascara held up fine.) We also had a Baptist minister perform a little service. HIS Mom’s religious and it was for her that we included it. The minister’s a friend?....urmmmm…. Acquaintance?.... Basically he’s a guy I know from the gym who happens to be a minister. We figured better the devil you know than some random religious person. Anyhow, he did a good job, HIS Mom liked it and that was the whole point.

We did a light lunch at a local club, sandwiches, coffee, cash bar, that kind of thing. I talked to the people I wanted to and tried to avoid the people I didn’t.

Some of the nicest moments of the day where due to 3 of HIS former co-workers, all younger than HIM and from 3 separate companies. They all expressed how much they liked working with HIM but more importantly how much HE influenced them in how they did their work and the direction they’ve taken in the field they work in.

Oh my god, how great is that?!?!? I knew HE was a great guy and respected at his work but HE actually influenced, and continues to influence, how these guys go about their work.

I’m so proud of HIM.

Food and Face Book

I have been eating, more because I know I should than any other reason. Problem is it feels like WORK. Chewing food is WORK. And I’m not even hungry which is probably why it feels like WORK.

More and more food arrived over the next few days. We’ve gotten home made cookies, store bought cookies, casseroles, soup, homemade rice pudding, frozen lasagna, chicken pot pie, and a bunch of other stuff I can’t even remember.

Since it’s only the 2 of us we have a small fridge and things where starting to hit maximum density in there. Mom was making an inventory and planning meals around what needed to be eaten the soonest. It kept her busy.

Dad was busy distracting himself with writing the eulogy, and phoning people.

P was busy doing a lot of stuff too, I’m not quite sure what but I’m sure it’s stuff I didn’t want to deal with.

All 4 of them where also going through their own grieving process. My parents really loved HIM, as did P who’s been a great friend of ours for 7 or 8 years, so I don’t imagine holding it together and doing all this was easy.

About this time I received a really great, and completely inappropriate, text from a good friend, I read it about a dozen times that day and still read it daily.

“You are in the prayers of all of Texas. A couple of funeral tips I forgot to mention. First try not to use words like penis, warts or yeast infection. Second try not to share funny stories about sex with the deceased. You know what, I think it would be best if you did not speak. Just nod and smile imagining what everyone who talks to you looks like naked.”

It still makes me laugh, ‘tho we thought imagining everyone in a tight speedo was a safer bet.

 “C” dropped off some cloths for me to try on for the funeral, which was great because I wasn’t really keen on buying an outfit I wouldn’t wear again. (It’s kind of like a bridesmaids dress, wearing it again only sounds like a good idea.) It was also pretty cool because “C” is a total babe, and I actually fit into some of the total babe’s cloths and looked ok.

Mom (who had packed in 60 seconds) and “P” (who was here for a 3 day visit and then got shanghaied by the inconsiderate asshole dying) needed something appropriate to wear so we hit a local boutique. Again, easy-peasy lemon squeezy, they both found nice and appropriate outfits, on sale to boot.

I still needed shoes. Mom had vetoed my widow SUPERPOWERS and said I couldn’t wear my red boots, so I found a nice pair of low cut/high heeled boots that I honestly can see myself wearing again…no really, I think I will….stop rolling your eyes…

This is also when I started to have problems with even the small amount of media coverage the accident received. (Apparently it was also on the TV as well as the radio and that stupid newspaper article). People know, people at my bank know, people at the drugstore know, people at the corner store know. People are offering their condolences while I’m trying to go about my business, and I do not like it.

I have enough problems not breaking out in spontaneous tears; I don’t need anyone’s (well meaning) help, especially when I’m trying to choose a cough syrup.

I was also starting to receive e-mail notifications that messages where being posted to me on Face Book, a lot of messages.

I joined FB reluctantly a few years ago and think its necessary evil in keeping in touch with random people. My biggest problem with it is some people take it way too seriously and others will use it instead of picking up the phone.

Because of HIS hobby we know a lot of people in the states and some in Europe and just about every one of them who didn’t have our phone number posted something. Answering them gave me something to do and it was nice that so many people cared and cared about HIM.

…and I never did post about cremation being the way to go because of the zombie apocalypse, so I guess that shows some grace.

The Funeral Home and Bruce Willis

Next day was the meeting at the funeral home. It was pretty straight forward, we had already talked about this and HE wanted to be cremated. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy as HE would say. (Yes, he actually did say that).

Public Service Announcement: Please have that conversation with your loved ones; it cuts through a huger amount of confusion/worry/bullshit.

We choose the date for the visitation/memorial service and all the other crap that has to be arranged.

Funeral homes offer a wide range of tacky ways to go (literally). While there I read a brochure that explained that for 3 grand I could have my loved one’s ashes compressed into a jewellery-quality gem-stone in a wide rang of colours and then set into the ring or pendant of my choice. Not kidding, check out the link here http://www.lifegem.com/

Dolphin urn, percious, no?

And there’s all kinds of tacky “keepsake” containers you can choose from as well. And we hadn’t even gotten to the “showroom” of the urns and caskets! There honestly is no accounting for taste.

I had to choose a casket for HIM to be cremated in, they are cheaper and uglier than the ones people get buried in. HE had always said to just send him in, in a cardboard box but apparently that’s not an option anymore. (The funeral director told me crematoriums now insisted on a box with a wooden base to prevent “seepage”). So in line with HIS wishes I choose the cheapest one there. Dad helped me choose an urn, they run the gamete from hideously expensive to hideously ugly. We choose one that was nice, plain and didn’t scream “DEAD GUY IN HERE”. (As apposed to the football one that screamed “DEAD FOOTBALL FAN IN HERE).

Our funeral director also outlined what was going on with HIM, HE had quite the travel itinerary before the service. After the accident he was taken to the nearest town’s hospital, from there (due to the nature of the accident) he went to a much bigger town to be autopsied, after he was released by the coroner he went to the funeral home in our town to be prepped, then off to the crematorium about 2 hours away, then back to the funeral home….HE hated his commute to work so I can only imagine how this thrilled him.

Back at home more phone calls where made or answered, we read the stupid newspaper article (it was nice but on the front page and I didn’t want it in the first place), and more food arrived.

We also had a meeting with one of the police officers who responded on scene of the accident, he had some questions for me and said he could answer some of my questions about the accident. Ten seconds in the door he announces he’s allergic to cats and can we do this outside…

…Ummm, outside? You want to talk about the last moments of my husband’s life, outside? Outside in plain view of my unemployed dope-smoking neighbors? Outside with the communal driveway that sees plenty of car and foot traffic? Outside with all the cars driving down the main street of the town?!

(SUPERPOWERS ACTIVATE)

No, suck it up Princess.

So, he sat, sniffling over cat allergies and proceeded to describe the accident, what had happened, and what he had done on-scene. To hear him tell it, it wasn’t so much a car accident as a scene from Die Hard.

He was very over the top and clearly trying hard not to seem too impressed with his role. I had problems looking him in the eye and didn’t risk looking at P through his monologue.

Just to be clear, I do appreciate what he and the others did. I appreciate anyone who joins the police, ambulance or fire fighters. The have dangerous jobs and have to deal with all kinds of horrific scenes regularly. I’m thankful he and other were there.

I just think he needs to tone down how he relays info about fatal traffic accidents.

Luckily “C” rolled up to check in on me and had brought her daughter bearing cookies so I headed them off outside since daughter didn’t need to hear any of this.

And that’s when I realized I was going to be an inappropriate widow.

I was describing to “C” the scene inside with Bruce Willis and pretty soon we where both laughing our asses off….the officer who helped pull HIM out of the wreckage is less than 10 meters away and I’m bent over laughing about it. Hmmmmmm, Jackie Kennedy probably showed more grace.

Bruce left shortly after; he imparted some words of wisdom (“Take things one day at a time”) and told me to contact him if I needed anything….like ideas for a movie script?

The Night The World Stood Still

Notification of my husband’s death happened at 3:15 in the morning. A brief phone call from an officer asking me to please meet them at my door. They came in (2 female officers), I sat down, because they told me to, and they told me of HIS death. (Car accident on his way home from work).

A good friend, “P”, was visiting at the time and one of the officers roused her out of bed since they apparently have a rule not to leave us shell shocked widows alone….this extends to not letting us go up to the bathroom alone, one of them stood outside while I went…I mean seriously?!? If I was going to try suicide I would wait until the police had left, and frankly if they were that worried they should have moved the huge bowie knife that was sitting in plain view on my desk.

At some point one of them mentioned to P that I seemed to be in shock…

…Ya think?!?!?!

By 4am the cops had left and P and I had time to kill before we started making the awful phone calls. I spent some time crying but we also came up with a few rules I should follow:

-         NO more cats, we already have 2 and anymore could start the slow decent in “Crazy Cat Lady” territory.

-         NO tattoos for 10 months, incase I wanted to go that “”commemorative” route.

-         NO neck tattoos EVER

-         NO puppies, P thought her Jack Russell might be in the family way with a Beagle, the puppies would be cute but also dumb, noisy and hyperactive….if I wanted that I should have had kids.

-         NO Face Book for 36 hours (I had a wild compulsion to post “Due to the upcoming zombie apocalypse we have decided on cremation”.)

Eventually a reasonable hour of the morning arrived when we could start making calls, P actually made most of them; I was done after phoning my parents. Then had the vague stress about what a disaster the kitchen was after doing up a vodka watermelon the day before for a pool party. (I did try mopping the floor the day before but that mop broke.)

One of P’s first calls was to another close friend of mine, C. C showed up with another friend, K, in tow with food, boxes of Kleenex, toilet paper and a new mop, and then proceeded to clean my kitchen – really above and beyond the call of duty considering my housekeeping skills are on the relaxed side. I was also told by C that as a widow I had the SUPERPOWER of acting however and doing whatever I wanted! It made me a little bit happy because I thought I was acting a bit weird, cry, crack a joke, cry. At some point I was ordered to grab a shower and change my cloths, when I reappeared the cleaning crew was gone and the kitchen was Mom-ready.

The stupidest things we had to worry about was that HIS name would be released to the media 12 hours after he had been identified, and we didn’t want anyone finding out that way. I mean fuck, who needs the stress of playing “beat the newscast” on top of everything else?!?!?

I made some calls to close friends, “P” called everyone else. I’m so grateful she was here; she handled all kinds’ issues. At one point a well-meaning (but stupid) friend of a friend called and when I picked up she told me she had hear I was in a car accident and was I alright? ….I silently handed the phone to “P” and lit another cigarette.

HIS best friend showed up and shortly afterwards so did my parents after their 6 hour drive and after that the machine took over. A funeral home was chosen (the closest one to our house), more people were notified, people answered the phone for me, other people showed up with food. Then we got an awful call from the local newspaper. Due to one of HIS hobbies he had been featured in past media stuff, a reporter caught his name as being the deceased, had already talked to a few people for the article and did we want to comment…?!?!?....Wow, just wow. You’d think a small town newspaper would have a bit more tact or respect but apparently not. So HIS best friend “D” talked to the report for awhile. They were running the story whether we liked it or not so might as well help them get it right. But I mean seriously, WTF?!?!?!?!

About this time I started swearing a lot, usually I don’t in front of my parents, or try not to, but I seemed to have lost that filter, and it’s still missing….plus my Mom’s half deaf, and I’m the WIDOW I have SUPERPOWERS I can do whatever I want.

I started referring to the whole thing as “a big bag of suck” and mentioned several times that HE was an inconsiderate asshole for dying on me. In the next few days that would change to inconsiderate mother-fucker because it started to sink in that this was really happening.

Sleep was impossible that night. I didn’t help that I had a summer cold and was coughing a lot; chain smoking my way through the day didn’t help either.