lord have mercy

My hands are shaking with fatigue but somehow I have to write about the last two days, to share and somehow make sense of everything.

It started yesterday afternoon. The family each had a moment with Antonetta, Carm’s mom, as she lay in a billow of white satin, looking somewhat like herself, but also like someone unknown. We took our place in the receiving line, ready (maybe), for the next few hours. At 2pm the doors opened and people started slowly filling in, stopping to pay respects to his mom, and then one by one, greeting us. Countless handshakes, kisses, and superficial hugs. Many people were friends of Carm’s parents, brothers and sisters, people that we’d never seen, but at times a cousin or friend would stop. Hugs weren’t superficial then, but instead we held them close as if they were a life preserver.

And then my parents walked in and stopped in front of the coffin. My brain turned on itself and swapped mothers. Suddenly it was my mom lying prone and I burst into tears. She took a step away and then it was my dad, looking older than he is, and I knew the future was being foreshadowed. How do you recover from such a shock in this environment. I did, but not really.

The day wore on until the supper break. It seemed impossibly short and we were lined up again. How many different handshakes are there? Which are best? (hint, firm but not squeezing, and never too soft). More friends to ease the pain (thank you everyone who was able to come).

But it wasn’t all bad. There was laughter and reconnection. A gift from Carm’s mom.

Nine pm came eventually and we hurtled down the highway on our way home, tired and heads spinning. (I’ll talk about home next post).

At 6 am Thursday we started our preparations for the final good-bye. By 8:10 we were at the funeral home for a private viewing and a few moments. At 9:45 the coffin was closed and carried to the hearse. 10:00 am the coffin was carried into the church. It was the usual Catholic service with personal readings by Carm’s sister and brother. Some of the grandchildren read from the bible. I stared at the ceiling, trying to keep myself out of the moment. It was impossible. I couldn’t help but cry as I felt others around me breaking down. My eyes are still bleary and occasionally watery (note to self: mascara held up way beyond expectations).

Carm’s mom has been ill with Alzheimer's for years and for the last 6 months not well at all. Her passing was expected and as I reminded myself, a mercy. I thought that all of this would help. But no. You think about what was and what no longer is. You remember the depth of a mother’s love and how safe and secure that makes you feel. You wonder how you will live without. You think about the future and your own losses that are yet to be felt.

The church service ended and we drove to the mausoleum for the internment. The slide of the coffin into the space beside her husband was a sort of closure, an end to a life well lived, and it seemed fitting for her to be beside the man she’d married and raised 5 kids with. Did knowing she was going to rest there ease her passing?

Finally we went to the hall for a much needed lunch. At the hall we visited with relatives and friends in a true celebration of life. “Mangia, mangia” Carm’s mom would have said. Late in the afternoon, I said good-bye to my Mom and Dad and soon after Carm and I left for home.

And so it is over. Exhausted and somewhat numb, the tears are still near the surface. We both need a few days of quiet reflection and rest. But first, tonight, we will raise a glass of bubbles to Carm’s mom.

“Lord have mercy upon the few

Lord have mercy upon the many

Lord have mercy on me and on you”

~lyrics by 10cc