April 2002

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It was six years ago today, to the Wednesday, that my mother died. And this has been a really hard anniversary. I've been on the edge of tears almost all day, which sort of surprised me. I'm sure some of it has to do with this being the first time since her death that the date fell on the same day. It also has a lot to do with all the other things that are going on in my life, good and not so good, and with looking at the events that have happened in the intervening years, again good and not so good.

I wrote last year about all the events leading up to Mother's death, and about how that felt. If you haven't read it and want to, start here and go forward through the entries to the one for April 24.

In one of those, I wrote that I had started making funeral plans early. And that one of the things I really wanted was for our former pastor to come to do the homily (sermon) for the service. It gave me a great deal of peace to know that he was coming.

The day of the service was a really pretty April Sunday. Since so many of Mother's friends were no longer driving at night, I decided not to have a visitation the night before the service, but to have one at the church for the hour prior. Prior to that, I went with a cousin of mine over to the funeral home, for a private viewing of Mother's body. I had known that she did not care for the custom of open caskets, and neither do I. The private visiting time let me see her body at peace, and let me send a couple of things with her.

Mother had always loved Emeraude, the scent. And there had been a picture of me, made around my second birthday, that she had carried in her handbag all the years since. It was only right to send that picture with her, since it represented the constancy of our relationship. And I knew she would have gotten a kick out of my next thought: she should have some Emeraude, too. The easiest way to accomplish this was to spritz a little onto the back of the picture, which had been printed on heavy paper that would absorb the liquid. So that's exactly what I did. We also took some lipstick for Mother, since it was one of her big-deal things that a lady never went anywhere without her lipstick.

The service itself went well. The former pastor did a grand job. He had known Mother for several years, and had had many conversations with her, during which he had come to know quite a bit of her history. And it was evident in what he said that he had a great deal of love and respect for her. Although technically it wasn't a eulogy (Lutheran rules tsk at that notion), it was very close.

The family gathered after the service, and what amounted to a wake without the booze. We all told stories on my mother, knowing she would have enjoyed participating in the laughter.

The day was truly a celebration of her life. And I treasure the memories.