How do you summarize a funeral? I’m not really sure, but I want to write it down all the same. This will be a 50/50 post – sharing a few thoughts about my Grandma’s funeral and recording for posterity my fantastic timing at getting really sick at the same time.
I flew up to Cincinnati for my Grandma’s funeral, thankful that no one asked me if I was going for business or pleasure. Common enough question when you fly on a weekday and I’m glad I avoided it.
I continued the rental car lottery by getting a Fiat. It was quite cute and fun to drive. It was a cheery bright red, and provided a bit of whimsy on a dreary weekend – my whole family took turns driving it!
The visitation was hard. It took me three attempts before I was able to go into the room with my Grandma’s casket. I finally did it and was glad I did. She looked so good – not at all sickly like she was at the end. If I stared hard enough I could picture her breathing and I just wanted to say, “Grandma, wake up!” But that wasn’t a possibility. I used to hold her hand all the time. She had such nice hands, soft and warm. So I touched her hand and it was cold and heavy.
The funeral home was big, which was nice because there were a lot of places to hide. Which I did a very good job of at the beginning; I didn’t want to put my big girl pants on and handle the situation like a grown up. I just wanted my Grandma back.
Then Grandma’s “golden age best friend” arrived and I was asked to please welcome her. So I did. And holy goodness, where did all these people come from?! It was packed. I hope Grandma was looking down from above and able to see how much she meant to so many people. I spent the rest of the time mingling, meeting, greeting and thanking.
It really wasn’t bad, except for the fact that I felt awful. I’d had a bit of a scratchy throat for a few days and by Friday (that day) I felt pretty bad. By midway through the visitation my throat was on fire, I had a splitting headache, my neck hurt, I was freezing cold and I had the shakes. I did my best to conceal my symptoms, but when it was all said and done a trip to urgent care was in order.
Let’s just not even discuss the poor timing. At urgent care I was diagnosed with a severe sore throat, most likely a form of strep, and given an antibiotic. Stellar. On the upside, there is nothing quite like having mom nearby when you feel like crap and she took excellent care of me.
I woke up in the middle of the night in so much pain I wasn’t sure how I was going to make the funeral, let alone do the readings. The next morning the pain was at least bearable and I thanked God for that small mercy.
The funeral. I knew it was going to be the hardest part for me and it was. The bell tower chimed as her casket was carried into church. That’s when the tears began. We processed into church behind the casket and the tears really started to flow. My brother took my arm and together we made it. So very hard. The mass was a very nice tribute to Grandma; she picked out the songs and I picked out the readings. The priest did a great job with the homily.
Afterward we processed to the cemetery and she was laid to rest next to my Grandfather. That part didn’t bother me, as she took us to the cemetery once and said that she didn’t like going to the cemetery because Grandpa wasn’t there. His body was there, but he was up in heaven. I had that running through my mind as we were there. We were laying her body to rest, but Grandma had already gone up to heaven.
We spent the afternoon enjoying family time at my uncle’s house. My throat, et. al. continued to get worse as the day went on and by late afternoon I was back to feeling awful. By that night I felt worse than I’d felt in a really long time. My mom once again took excellent care of me, but there really isn’t much you can do to soothe a fiery sore throat. It was by far the most painful sore throat I have ever experienced.
I slept maybe 2-3 hours that night, which was not ideal considering I had a 5:30 a.m. flight back to Atlanta the next morning. Yes, I missed my flight. Yes, I called my husband sobbing at 5:45 a.m. I was a hot mess; thankfully there were very few people at the airport that early. A very kind gate agent rebooked my flight at no charge, and I was able to get a standby seat on the connecting flight in Charlotte – so I got home less than two hours later than originally planned.
Mike and L.J. picked me up at the airport, and we left from there for Hilton Head. I slept for 12 hours straight on Sunday night, and woke up feeling much more human on Monday morning. Thank goodness for modern medicine and the restorative power of sleep.
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