Gold dust

Before too much more time passes, I want to record the lighter moments, the providential circumstances...the gold dust sprinkled over my life in the past while. I don't think I can make this entertaining; it isn't a narrative. My aim is to acknowledge the good stuff, to have it written down so that it will be remembered. A simple list will do, and here it is:

• My sister was meant to have surgery in December, which would mean being incapacitated leading up to Christmas if not longer. She was inexplicably unable to contact the clinic, and whenever they phoned the house the message was forgotten and not passed on to her. Very frustrating for her at the time, but in hind-sight, a good thing, as it meant she was mobile and up to the traveling when our dad died.


• On the day he died, I had been trying to escape in various ways, one of them being taking in a matinee. Oddly enough, the obscure movie was sold out, and the theatre lobby so crowded I decided to just go home and lick my wounds in private. However, once home, I couldn't bring myself to hide in my room, so I immersed myself in the family. We were all of us gathered together when the phone call came...none of us was alone. It would have been wretched to be sitting in a darkened theatre, watching an inane movie, feeling my phone go off in my pocket, and getting the news that way. I was so peeved when my plans didn't work out, but what a good thing it turned out to be.


• Going to the funeral home was a very difficult thing to do. I was worried about losing control of myself and just didn't know how I was going to be able to manage it. As I stepped into the very crowded lobby, a beautiful grey cat sat at the edge of our family group, looking quite alot like my cat Diggory. I got a great deal of comfort from the cat that day, as it followed us from room to room all morning. I think that was a wee present from Pop...a little something to help me get through the more difficult moments of our time there. The cat consoled Number Three Nephew as well, who was really hurting from the loss of his beloved Opa.


• We had the opportunity as a family to see him and say goodbye at the funeral home. What joy that brought! I know that sounds very peculiar, but it's true, and good. You see, he had suffered a great deal and that shows on a person. When we saw him, he looked himself again, dressed in his favourite casual suit without a tie and his t-shirt peaking underneath his open shirt collar. He was at peace, restored to himself and therefore to us as well. He was Pop once more.


• Mom had a strangely difficult time getting in touch with her family, which set off a chain of events which just may lead to healing and reconciliation. It also prompted a visit from her long distance younger brother we haven't seen in over 25 years. He was able to stand by his sister's side as support, and serve as Pall Bearer to his brother in law. His nephews adored him, and we have great hope that this bond will continue to grow and strengthen with time. Pop had often encouraged Mom to visit her family but for one reason or another it wasn't possible. It will certainly happen now, and I'm sure he's had a hand in it.


• The Funeral Director (referred to by us as Mr. Director) very properly cautioned us that due to weather conditions and the time of year, it was almost likely that a grave could not be dug, and that Pop would have to temporarily be in a vault, and be buried in the spring. Well, while we reconciled ourselves to the idea we knew very well Pop would not approve of that: paying rent for a vault when he already had paid for a plot? Not likely! So the fellow whose job it is to do so said that due to the unseasonal warm spell, he felt he could prepare the site for one last burial but it really would be the last one until the Thaw. There you go: another point for the stubborn Dutchman!


• Mr. Director guided us through other decisions that needed to be made, such as who would provide the music during the Mass. There were two options: an organist and his wife, or a guitarist. The organist, a teacher, would likely be available as it was still Christmas holiday for the schools, but his wife is a dentist, and quite possibly would not be free... or they could be away on vacation. The guitarist was pretty certain to be able to do the job. Once again we resigned ourselves, but it must be said that Pop was not overly keen on folksy guitar strumming. Sure enough, both the organist and his talented wife were available and willing.


• There is a priest - Father Brown - whom Pop loved very much. All along, Pop would confidently say that Fr. Brown would be at his funeral. (Fr. Brown lives far enough away it is measured by hours, and is also a very busy man.) Mom would caution that, yes, for sure Fr. Brown would want to be present, but may not be able. Father Brown was indeed there, and gave a very beautiful homily about confidence in God's promise, God's faithfulness to us, and that Christ is always asking us to 'come to Him'. Hearing such a message of hope and love from a holy priest who knew, respected, and loved my dad was a real blessing and consolation.


• The priest lays a Crucifix on the casket for the Mass. This Crucifix was given to Mom before we left the Church after the funeral. It broke in two pieces, for which Father apologized, but Mom found to be very symbolic of the fact that Pop's suffering was at an end. I believe it was the Sunday following that she picked up the Crucifix again to look at it,and the Corpus fell off. Again symbolic, this time of freedom. There is comfort in that, too.


• Wanting a simple funeral meant no flowers. There was some bartering on this issue: No flowers; ok, one flower from Mom if necessary; well, alright one each from the children if they had to...but the concessions were reluctantly given. We placed our order with the florist for the one flower each of us wanted to pay tribute with and charged a friend with their safekeeping. Through no personal fault at all, the flowers were not at the cemetery, and there was only one white rose there, meant to be given by a friend who kindly gave it to Mom, so she was able to place it on the casket. We brought our flowers to him the next day, which I'm sure he allowed only becuase he had gotten his own way for the funeral!


• The funeral was quiet and simple as he wished it to be. And yet there were friends who traveled long distances to be there with us. I thank you all for making the personal sacrifice and want you to know what comfort and joy you brought with you.