A few reflections after Mom’s funeral
We held Mom’s funeral not too long ago. While I can’t say it was a real surprise – she’d been confined to a bed for almost seven years – you’re never really ready for something like this. She certainly left quite a legacy.
I hope you’ll indulge me as I share a few thoughts and observations as I reflect on the days surrounding Mom’s funeral.
Keep short accounts
I know. I’m going to sound like a preacher here. I’m not sorry.
Let go of your grudges. Forgive. Seek forgiveness. Be reconciled. Keep your conscience clean.
Kevin and I were able to see mom the weekend before she died. The trip was already planned before we knew she only had days to live. I was able to tell her that I loved her and I knew she loved us. I was able to tell her that it was OK to go Home; that she’d fought the good fight and that it was time to go Home. Then I kissed her on her forehead and said goodbye.
You know, I can’t imagine being able to do that if I’d somehow been nursing a grudge against my mom. And I was one of the fortunate ones. We knew time was short. We got to say goodbye before she passed.
But what if I didn’t have that chance? Sure, it would’ve hurt. But it hurts now, anyway. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I had been holding onto some kind of petty misstep and treating it like it was the end of the world and then mom died unexpectedly.
She knew I loved her. I know she loved me. While it is comforting to look back and know that I was able to tell her that one last time, it wasn’t necessary. She already knew. I already knew. Because we had kept short accounts.
Make things right with the people you love. Bury that hatchet if you need to. Let it go, whatever it is.
Don’t wait. Because we don’t know how long we have. We really don’t. I don’t recommend relying on a bedside reconciliation or conversion. The odds are not in your favor.
Experts don’t know everything
This is probably still part of the first observation, but I think it’s different enough to have its own section. My inner editor is allowing it.
Mom probably should have died at least two other times over the past five years or so. She had a stroke about five years ago (I think the timing is correct). She probably should have died. Kevin and I drove down to Evansville to be with her in the hospital. She eventually left that hospital. She wasn’t fully recovered, but she was still a moving miracle.
A couple of years ago, something happened to her intestines and they basically ruptured inside of her body. That’s not a good thing. At all. When I rushed down to Evansville, they weren’t even sure if she would be alive when I got there.
Things were grim, to say the least. We found out later that the nurse who was with her when she came out of surgery did not expect for her to survive the night. He definitely did not expect to see her two days later for his next shift.
Mom was always an anomaly. No one could ever figure her out. And when hope seemed to be at its most bleak, she’d surprise all of the experts – and us, too. I kind of started expecting her to do that. I mean, it’s what she would do – defy the experts.
Even at the end, she surprised everyone. When her care was moved to hospice at the beginning of the year, we expected this to be a relatively long-term move. With the care she was receiving, it was reasonable to think that she could live for another year or two.
Then that changed to a few months.
Then a few weeks.
And then it was just a matter of days.
That two-year window lasted about a month.
Just show up – many did for Mom’s funeral
In a world of social media and online communities, it’s easy to believe that we’re connected better than ever before. In many ways, we really are. But there’s nothing that can replace someone’s actual physical presence.
You really don’t even have to say anything. Just be there. While someone who’s grieving might not say, “I wonder why (insert name here) hasn’t visited yet,” they will say, “I’m glad I got to see (insert name here). It was good to see him/her.”
Allow me to draw from Mom’s showing* and funeral. We spent time with many friends and family – many of whom we hadn’t seen in a long time. It filled our hearts.
Many people shared stories. Many didn’t. Nobody had anything magical to say that would somehow make the grief go away. They simply showed up.
And that helped lighten the load.
Lawn care, paper plates, and being neighborly
Again, this topic could have probably been part of the “Just show up” heading. But my inner editor is allowing it. Man, he’s being generous today.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: my dad has the best next door neighbors anyone could ask for. When my Grandpa died 30ish years ago, our neighbors didn’t hesitate to mow our front lawn after mowing his own. They’ve always been there for my family. And we’ve tried to be there for them.
One thing they did while our family was together last weekend was something I’d never really thought of before, but I highly recommend it. In the midst of the food and other items they brought over to Dad, they included approximately 150 paper plates.
You have no idea how much of a blessing that was. We had tons of food, but would’ve wound up spending a lot of time doing dishes if we didn’t have those paper plates. Something to think about when you’re trying to figure out how to help someone.
Paper plates, y’all. Give paper plates.
Take ALL the pictures
The weekend before Mom passed away, we spent one evening looking through pictures. There was a memorial slideshow we knew we wanted to have at Mom’s funeral. And it was helpful to remember who she was before the pain became too unbearable.
We probably looked through 3,000 pictures that night. I wish I could have had more pictures to look through.
My friend Katy recently said this:
“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad for taking billions of photos of your kids or your family…Keep snapping, keep recording, keep documenting.”
She’s right, you know.
You don’t have to share them online. Just make sure you’re taking them.
Please.
Endnotes
*Showing…visitation…wake…they’re all pretty much the same thing
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Very nice tribute to your Mom….she was a very special lady…not only was she my sister in-law she was my friend…your family will always be my family….I think you and Kevin are pretty special..
Love you, Aunt Ratsy💕
I enjoyed working with your mom at Stockwell PTA & scouts. I’m very sorry to hear she has passed away.
Those are good memories.
Thank you.