November in a nutshell, continued.
Dec. 2nd, 2012 01:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
outsdrI arrive at the church, and it's very churchy- all gray stone and stained glass windows. My brother and his wife were married in this church in 2005; I didn't like it then and I don't like it now. This made my mood even darker as I stepped inside and went into the pastor's office.
My brother had told me earlier not to mention to the pastor that I'm an atheist, or he would try to convert me for at least two hours. The man was only a few years older than me; his office was filled with books, a playstation, and Marines memorabilia. Apparently, he had been a sniper or sharpshooter or some thing. I sat down in to a surprisingly comfortable leather loveseat just inside the door, and quietly listened while he and my brother discussed what needed to be discussed. I looked around the room, and noticed one brightly-colored book with the title "The Gay Agenda: What You Must Know!" (It may have been this one). Apparently being an atheist is not the only issue the man would have had with me. Still, I was a guest, so I remained silent, and polite.
But I didn't like him. The more he talked, the more he seemed like an oily used car salesman to me. My brother reminded him that my father would have liked for things to be kept short, and the pastor reminded him that there was no charge for anything, although a donation could be made.
I asked to see the handout that was going to be given to attendees the following day. I read through it, took my pen and marked corrections where needed, and handed it back. My brother apologized and said, "He works for a newspaper."
Yeah, and I hate to see a misused comma, too.
By the time we left, I was too tired to be uncomfortable any more; I just wanted to go back to my room and go to sleep. Probably the best thing I did on the trip was get a hotel room! My brother reminded me that I needed to have Grandma at the church by 9:30 a.m. (Whenever I go back, it's always my turn to take care of grandma!)
I got back to my hotel room, set up my CPAP machine, and got ready for bed. This was my first time traveling with the CPAP machine; I figured being gone for a week, it would be good to have it with me.
The night passed uneventfully, and I got to the nursing home at 9 to pick up grandma. Loaded her and the wheelchair into the car, listened to her talk nonstop about how much she hated it there, what was she going to do now, etc. etc. Got her to the church right on time for the family viewing, which would last until 10:30, at which time there would be a public closed-casket viewing until 11:30.
Dad looked like he did when I saw him last; which was not how I remembered him to look. I was glad there was not going to be a public viewing, because I didn't want people to see him this way.
The next two hours were a blur of people and faces and empty smiles and hugs and i just wanted it to be over with so I could leave. Finally, we all settled in for the eulogy.
The pastor asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer. I stood and stared solemnly ahead while others bowed and prayed or whatever they did. Next, he asked us to sing a hymn. I held the book for my grandma, but did not sing myself. Finally the eulogy started.
To his credit, the pastor did keep it short. For about five minutes, he rattled off the points from the questions he had asked us the night before. "You might have seen him here; he enjoyed doing this;" etc. And then, it turned into a sermon ... "Howard may be dead now, but YOU don't have to fear death, because the power of JESUS will save you!"
The sermon continued for the next 30 minutes. I sat and silently seethed. I could feel my sister tense beside me as well; I sensed she was not happy either. Later, I learned it was because she didn't hear my mother mentioned once during the 'euology'. I was too angry to notice. This was my father's funeral, not a revival! Even the handouts that were given to people were not like I had seen the night before- they were copied onto a piece of paper with a prominent drawing of the church on the front, a fold out questionairre for guests to fill out asking why they were there and how could the church help them love Jesus even more? and instructions on the back on how to join the church.
I guess nothing comes for free.
By the time it was over, I was emotionally wrung out. I snuck out behind the church with my cousin, and we shared a cigarette in the parking lot behind a pine tree. It was my first since the end of 2010, and it felt nice. But it was a one time thing.
A luncheon was held in the basement of the church afterwards, put together by the women of the church. My nephew had saved a seat for me beside him, and I ate a sandwich and far too much pie. By the end, I was feeling much better. I may not believe in the power of Jesus; but it's harder to argue with the healing qualities of a church lady's pie.
My nephew was picking at his own food, but eagerly took bites out of my own sandwich. I'm not sure why mine tasted better than his.
After the lunch, the cars lined up for the funeral procession to the family farm. I told them I wanted to skip the procession and get there ahead of it, so I could get grandma loaded into the MULE (a golf-cart like tractor) and get her up to the gravesite. Really, I think I just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. I'm not sure why this was.
The procession arrived and we made our way to the grave, dad's casket in the trailer behind a tractor. Appropriate.
The pallbearers lowered the casket into the ground. My uncle, my father's youngest brother, gave a euology of the kind I think my father would have appreciated: heartfelt and two minutes long. Family members gathered to drop flowers into the grave. My nephews released two balloons in to the air. The adults watched while the balloons battled their way through tree branches, finally reaching open sky. In my head, I was thinking up a story to tell Cole if his balloon got stuck in the trees (The balloon must have wanted to stay to watch over grampa!) thankfully, my tall tale was not needed.
Kyle became bored, and crawled onto the tractor to amuse himself.
Just like at my mother's funeral, I saved two roses from the funeral spray on the casket. Cole asked me for one of them later, but I declined. He asked why, and I told him I would give it to him in a few years. And by that, I meant 13.
I've dried the roses since then, and plan on taking the two sets of roses and embedding them in lucite (or whatever is used these days) to make a permanent memorial of sorts to the grandparents one child will never know and the other will only vaguely remember. I'll give it to them on Cole's 18th birthday. Or his graduation. Or whenever I feel like it, honestly.
Family and friends gathered in my brother's house, mingling. Again, it's all a blur. My grandmother was ready to return to her home as well, so I loaded her up and took her back, then returned to my brother's house for more nephew time and some food. Janet mentioned taking Cole to wrestling practice later. It was about 3 p.m. at this point, and I was tired of everything and everyone, so I went back to the hotel. Later, I called my brother and told him I wasn't feeling well, and that I was just going to stay in for the night, but that I'd be there in the morning to take Cole to catch his school bus. I set my alarm, and went to bed.
I almost didn't make it- Cole's bus arrived at 7:20 in the morning, and I didn't wake up until 6:50, as my alarm never went off. I dressed as quickly as possible while the rental car warmed and defrosted outside, and managed to make it to the farm by 7:10. I asked Cole if he would like to walk or drive to the bus stop, and he said we would walk, and he'd show me the short cut through the field.
Spending time with him on the farm, it's fascinating to me to see all the things that are new to him, but are old and familiar to me. His 'short cut' was a path through the old horse field.
We waited for his bus. Turns out, it's the same bus number I rode as a child- driven by the same bus driver! I started riding that bus when I was 6- that was 36 years ago! Obviously, the bus driver could not have been as old as we thought he was back then.
That old familiar sunrise as we wait for the bus to come.
Looking back towards the house. I learned later that Kyle stood in the window and watched us walk to the bus stop.
The top picture makes me feel enormous.
The day was spent going through my father's things with his widow. There really wasn't much I wanted or needed; some of his motorcycle gear fit me, so I took that, as well as a framed article about him that would go on my office wall back home.
The motorcycle gear goes along with his Harley that I inheirted.
Again, the day is a bit of a blur. My brother and i went into town to get dogfood, and I ran into one of my highschool english teachers. This turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip, as I had not seen her since I graduted in 1988. She rememebred me, and I told her I remembered to this day one of the things she had said to me in class - "I know you're going to be a writer one day." I told her I'd never forgotten that, and one of the things I did these days was write. I think telling her that meant as much to her as it did to me. I told her to say hello to her son, who I graduated with, and my brother and I made our way back to the farm.
A few friends in town had wanted me to come by to say hello, but I sent them messages to let them know that on this trip, I just couldn't spare the time, unfortunately.
Soon, the nephews and Janet arrived home, and we spent a noisy evening together. By the time I left for the hotel, I was exhausted once more. The nephews may have unlimited energy; Uncle timmy does not!
Kyle loves my hat.
So much of the trip just blurs together now. Many family members asked
if I was planning on staying for Thanksgiving, but until they asked, I
hadn't even realized it was the next week! It would have been nice, but
would have made the trip far to expensive to take, especially last
minute like that.
Kyle is a clever child, even if he does only have half a brain. That's not an exact description- I don't remember what the condition is called, but literally, he only has a partial brain. If I remember right, a good portion of the latter half is just ... not there. My brother doesn't like telling people about it, because he doesn't want anyone treating him any differently, and he's really not different than a child his age, other than being a bit of a runt. He learned my name all on his own, even!
http://s153.beta.photobucket.com/user/outsdr/media/100_0559.mp4.html
Of course, with the camera on, he needed coaxing.
I said good night, and that I'd be by in the morning before I left. Mainly because I needed to do some laundry.
But not before we took one final set of pictures.
The next day, I took some boxes to be shipped to Wyoming into town, spent a little more time with my nephews, and then it was time to go. My flight back was in the morning the next day, so I was going to spend the afternoon with Doug again, sleep on his couch and head to the airport in the morning.
The flights back were a blur and a bore, although I was lucky enough to have an empty seat beside me on each of the two planes I had to take. That truly makes a difference in a trip! Andy was waiting for me at the airport, and boy was I ever glad to see him again.
The week after the trip went uneventfully. Thanksgiving was not a major event. I cooked a turkey breast in the crock pot while Andy was at work.
And spent four hours making puddings!
Friday, I developed some pain in a tooth I had had a filling put in just before our trip to Albuquerque in October. The tooth had never really settled down, and I knew I was going to have to have a root canal. I had taken the weekend off from the hotel, and Saturday I was woken at 4 am by the pain in the tooth. It was so bad, I couldn't talk or close my mouth. Andy had a pain pill left from a root canal of his own, so I took that, and luckily my doctor is open on Saturdays, and was able to give me a prescription of my own to get me through the weekend. I had the root canal on Monday. I'd never had one before, and it was truly awful, especially when the anesthesia started wearing off near the end of the procedure. Just when I reached the point where I didn't think I could take any more, it ended.
I'd rather not go through that again.
I also put up our tree:
And there you have it. November in a nutshell.
My brother had told me earlier not to mention to the pastor that I'm an atheist, or he would try to convert me for at least two hours. The man was only a few years older than me; his office was filled with books, a playstation, and Marines memorabilia. Apparently, he had been a sniper or sharpshooter or some thing. I sat down in to a surprisingly comfortable leather loveseat just inside the door, and quietly listened while he and my brother discussed what needed to be discussed. I looked around the room, and noticed one brightly-colored book with the title "The Gay Agenda: What You Must Know!" (It may have been this one). Apparently being an atheist is not the only issue the man would have had with me. Still, I was a guest, so I remained silent, and polite.
But I didn't like him. The more he talked, the more he seemed like an oily used car salesman to me. My brother reminded him that my father would have liked for things to be kept short, and the pastor reminded him that there was no charge for anything, although a donation could be made.
I asked to see the handout that was going to be given to attendees the following day. I read through it, took my pen and marked corrections where needed, and handed it back. My brother apologized and said, "He works for a newspaper."
Yeah, and I hate to see a misused comma, too.
By the time we left, I was too tired to be uncomfortable any more; I just wanted to go back to my room and go to sleep. Probably the best thing I did on the trip was get a hotel room! My brother reminded me that I needed to have Grandma at the church by 9:30 a.m. (Whenever I go back, it's always my turn to take care of grandma!)
I got back to my hotel room, set up my CPAP machine, and got ready for bed. This was my first time traveling with the CPAP machine; I figured being gone for a week, it would be good to have it with me.
The night passed uneventfully, and I got to the nursing home at 9 to pick up grandma. Loaded her and the wheelchair into the car, listened to her talk nonstop about how much she hated it there, what was she going to do now, etc. etc. Got her to the church right on time for the family viewing, which would last until 10:30, at which time there would be a public closed-casket viewing until 11:30.
Dad looked like he did when I saw him last; which was not how I remembered him to look. I was glad there was not going to be a public viewing, because I didn't want people to see him this way.
The next two hours were a blur of people and faces and empty smiles and hugs and i just wanted it to be over with so I could leave. Finally, we all settled in for the eulogy.
The pastor asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer. I stood and stared solemnly ahead while others bowed and prayed or whatever they did. Next, he asked us to sing a hymn. I held the book for my grandma, but did not sing myself. Finally the eulogy started.
To his credit, the pastor did keep it short. For about five minutes, he rattled off the points from the questions he had asked us the night before. "You might have seen him here; he enjoyed doing this;" etc. And then, it turned into a sermon ... "Howard may be dead now, but YOU don't have to fear death, because the power of JESUS will save you!"
The sermon continued for the next 30 minutes. I sat and silently seethed. I could feel my sister tense beside me as well; I sensed she was not happy either. Later, I learned it was because she didn't hear my mother mentioned once during the 'euology'. I was too angry to notice. This was my father's funeral, not a revival! Even the handouts that were given to people were not like I had seen the night before- they were copied onto a piece of paper with a prominent drawing of the church on the front, a fold out questionairre for guests to fill out asking why they were there and how could the church help them love Jesus even more? and instructions on the back on how to join the church.
I guess nothing comes for free.
By the time it was over, I was emotionally wrung out. I snuck out behind the church with my cousin, and we shared a cigarette in the parking lot behind a pine tree. It was my first since the end of 2010, and it felt nice. But it was a one time thing.
A luncheon was held in the basement of the church afterwards, put together by the women of the church. My nephew had saved a seat for me beside him, and I ate a sandwich and far too much pie. By the end, I was feeling much better. I may not believe in the power of Jesus; but it's harder to argue with the healing qualities of a church lady's pie.
My nephew was picking at his own food, but eagerly took bites out of my own sandwich. I'm not sure why mine tasted better than his.
After the lunch, the cars lined up for the funeral procession to the family farm. I told them I wanted to skip the procession and get there ahead of it, so I could get grandma loaded into the MULE (a golf-cart like tractor) and get her up to the gravesite. Really, I think I just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. I'm not sure why this was.
The procession arrived and we made our way to the grave, dad's casket in the trailer behind a tractor. Appropriate.
The pallbearers lowered the casket into the ground. My uncle, my father's youngest brother, gave a euology of the kind I think my father would have appreciated: heartfelt and two minutes long. Family members gathered to drop flowers into the grave. My nephews released two balloons in to the air. The adults watched while the balloons battled their way through tree branches, finally reaching open sky. In my head, I was thinking up a story to tell Cole if his balloon got stuck in the trees (The balloon must have wanted to stay to watch over grampa!) thankfully, my tall tale was not needed.
Kyle became bored, and crawled onto the tractor to amuse himself.
Just like at my mother's funeral, I saved two roses from the funeral spray on the casket. Cole asked me for one of them later, but I declined. He asked why, and I told him I would give it to him in a few years. And by that, I meant 13.
I've dried the roses since then, and plan on taking the two sets of roses and embedding them in lucite (or whatever is used these days) to make a permanent memorial of sorts to the grandparents one child will never know and the other will only vaguely remember. I'll give it to them on Cole's 18th birthday. Or his graduation. Or whenever I feel like it, honestly.
Family and friends gathered in my brother's house, mingling. Again, it's all a blur. My grandmother was ready to return to her home as well, so I loaded her up and took her back, then returned to my brother's house for more nephew time and some food. Janet mentioned taking Cole to wrestling practice later. It was about 3 p.m. at this point, and I was tired of everything and everyone, so I went back to the hotel. Later, I called my brother and told him I wasn't feeling well, and that I was just going to stay in for the night, but that I'd be there in the morning to take Cole to catch his school bus. I set my alarm, and went to bed.
I almost didn't make it- Cole's bus arrived at 7:20 in the morning, and I didn't wake up until 6:50, as my alarm never went off. I dressed as quickly as possible while the rental car warmed and defrosted outside, and managed to make it to the farm by 7:10. I asked Cole if he would like to walk or drive to the bus stop, and he said we would walk, and he'd show me the short cut through the field.
Spending time with him on the farm, it's fascinating to me to see all the things that are new to him, but are old and familiar to me. His 'short cut' was a path through the old horse field.
We waited for his bus. Turns out, it's the same bus number I rode as a child- driven by the same bus driver! I started riding that bus when I was 6- that was 36 years ago! Obviously, the bus driver could not have been as old as we thought he was back then.
That old familiar sunrise as we wait for the bus to come.
Looking back towards the house. I learned later that Kyle stood in the window and watched us walk to the bus stop.
The top picture makes me feel enormous.
The day was spent going through my father's things with his widow. There really wasn't much I wanted or needed; some of his motorcycle gear fit me, so I took that, as well as a framed article about him that would go on my office wall back home.
The motorcycle gear goes along with his Harley that I inheirted.
Again, the day is a bit of a blur. My brother and i went into town to get dogfood, and I ran into one of my highschool english teachers. This turned out to be one of the highlights of the trip, as I had not seen her since I graduted in 1988. She rememebred me, and I told her I remembered to this day one of the things she had said to me in class - "I know you're going to be a writer one day." I told her I'd never forgotten that, and one of the things I did these days was write. I think telling her that meant as much to her as it did to me. I told her to say hello to her son, who I graduated with, and my brother and I made our way back to the farm.
A few friends in town had wanted me to come by to say hello, but I sent them messages to let them know that on this trip, I just couldn't spare the time, unfortunately.
Soon, the nephews and Janet arrived home, and we spent a noisy evening together. By the time I left for the hotel, I was exhausted once more. The nephews may have unlimited energy; Uncle timmy does not!
Kyle loves my hat.
So much of the trip just blurs together now. Many family members asked
if I was planning on staying for Thanksgiving, but until they asked, I
hadn't even realized it was the next week! It would have been nice, but
would have made the trip far to expensive to take, especially last
minute like that.
Kyle is a clever child, even if he does only have half a brain. That's not an exact description- I don't remember what the condition is called, but literally, he only has a partial brain. If I remember right, a good portion of the latter half is just ... not there. My brother doesn't like telling people about it, because he doesn't want anyone treating him any differently, and he's really not different than a child his age, other than being a bit of a runt. He learned my name all on his own, even!
http://s153.beta.photobucket.com/user/outsdr/media/100_0559.mp4.html
Of course, with the camera on, he needed coaxing.
I said good night, and that I'd be by in the morning before I left. Mainly because I needed to do some laundry.
But not before we took one final set of pictures.
The next day, I took some boxes to be shipped to Wyoming into town, spent a little more time with my nephews, and then it was time to go. My flight back was in the morning the next day, so I was going to spend the afternoon with Doug again, sleep on his couch and head to the airport in the morning.
The flights back were a blur and a bore, although I was lucky enough to have an empty seat beside me on each of the two planes I had to take. That truly makes a difference in a trip! Andy was waiting for me at the airport, and boy was I ever glad to see him again.
The week after the trip went uneventfully. Thanksgiving was not a major event. I cooked a turkey breast in the crock pot while Andy was at work.
And spent four hours making puddings!
Friday, I developed some pain in a tooth I had had a filling put in just before our trip to Albuquerque in October. The tooth had never really settled down, and I knew I was going to have to have a root canal. I had taken the weekend off from the hotel, and Saturday I was woken at 4 am by the pain in the tooth. It was so bad, I couldn't talk or close my mouth. Andy had a pain pill left from a root canal of his own, so I took that, and luckily my doctor is open on Saturdays, and was able to give me a prescription of my own to get me through the weekend. I had the root canal on Monday. I'd never had one before, and it was truly awful, especially when the anesthesia started wearing off near the end of the procedure. Just when I reached the point where I didn't think I could take any more, it ended.
I'd rather not go through that again.
I also put up our tree:
And there you have it. November in a nutshell.
