The Funeral

It's hard to catch up on major events ten days later. It's been pretty much a whirlwind of activity, and though it's slowing down slightly right now, it's really going to pick up when I get home.

Since I can't go online right now and see what I've previously posted, I need to recap a bit.


Friday: my suit and two custom shirts do not come back from the hotel sending them off to be pressed. That's OK, I don't need them until Sunday. I'm sure they'll come in Saturday.

Saturday: hotel fails to return my suit and two custom-made shirts. We're talking $500 replacement cost here. I'm verily pissed and building a plan to drive an hour to be at a mall when they open at noon to buy a new suit and two altered shirts, the visitation at the funeral home starts at 2pm.

I raise hell with the hotel, being very careful not to blame any individual because no one with home I could speak would be responsible. For whatever reason, they did not come back from the dry cleaners, but I don't care: I MUST have my clothes! I state the case quite plainly, then Russ and I go to dinner.

At dinner they call back saying they still don't have my clothes but they, in all their generosity, will comp me two nights of my stay and will mail me my clothes when they come in. Apparently the fact that I had to have them in less than 18 hours had eluded someone. I did not bother returning the call.

We went to a bookstore where my cell rang, it was the hotel and they had my clothes on-hand. An industrious clerk had looked up the owner's name in the phone book, called him, and he went to the store, retrieved my clothes and took them to the hotel.

I will be sending a letter commending the staff when I'm back in Phoenix (I don't have a printer up here yet).

Sunday: the funeral home visitation, open casket. Russ and I are there when it begins, the visitation goes until 5pm, then there's a prayer service led by the priest who will do a Mass the next morning. We stay about 90 minutes then retire to the house for a little rest and nosh, we're back at the home about 4:30, soon thereafter Russet's mother Clare arrives. She's in a wheelchair and has an oxygen bottle, but she's present.

The prayer service/Vespers Mass/whatever goes well. I have no idea what Catholic services are like, so I just read along while people speak out the lines from the little guide that was distributed. It was very nice, even had some Latin in it.

Finally the service is over and people begin leaving. Clare is taken back to the hospital. I listen in on the priest talking to (apparently) a parishioner about British comedy! I thought that was pretty cool, a priest who is familiar with 'Allo 'Allo, Yes Minister, and several others. I spoke with him a bit, he seems like a pretty cool guy (for a Catholic ), also has a major taste for foreign films, preferably Spanish/South American. Maybe he did a missionary stint down there, I don't know.

Eventually everyone left. The family had built a great photo board of pictures of Brian and Family, I was very disappointed that there were no photos from our wedding of two weeks earlier, they had the prints, they just didn't use them. I think that ours was the only wedding not shown. They were also the last photos of Brian and he looked pretty good, much better than he did when he passed.

Finally it was Russet and I in the funeral home. I told the director that, at Clare's request, I was going to take some photographs of the flower arrangements and casket after he closed it.


As a side note leading to an explanation, I lost a dog a couple of months ago. Her name was Cricket, she was part pit bull. She was up there in years, probably 10-15, and was suffering from congestive heart failure. The vet gave us some pills that extended her life for a few months, but ultimately she was suffering too much and the decision was made to have her put to sleep. I received the call that it would be happening that day, and I wanted to get some pictures of her while she was still alive, so I jumped in my truck and headed for my parents.

She died just a few minutes after the call, she was gone when I got there. Cricket passed quietly, at least as quietly as someone dying of heart congestion and having difficulty breathing can. I said my goodbyes, stroked her fur, and I went ahead and took some pictures.

I wish I hadn't.

Lying there, she looked like she was asleep. But looking at the photos on a monitor, it was quite obvious that she was dead. I deleted those images and reformatted the memory card. I also decided that I would never again photograph a dead being.


Thus, I told the funeral director that after he closed the casket that I was going to take some pictures. He didn't have a problem with that, but he told us that it is frequently a very intense and emotional experience for mourners watching him close the casket. We told him to go ahead, an arm around each other and holding hands.

He was very respectful (third generation funeral director, not a corporate operation). One thing that I didn't know is the white "skirt" that is around the top of the coffin, at least on this one, is part of the coffin and is folded in. It was done with skill and respect, then he closed the casket.

I took a few photos, then we headed off. The rest of the night was largely irrelevant but did involve pizza and a gin & tonic.


Monday came. We arrived at her family's house about 45 minutes before the Mass, we passed the hearse from the funeral home as it took the casket to the church. Once everyone was ready, we headed off. Our cars were lined up in nice fashion and we got these interesting little magnetic signs that has 'Funeral Procession' printed on them with American flag on top. That was a first for me. No one except for family had arrived for the Mass yet, so the funeral director had a little briefing for the pallbearers, amongst which I was numbered. It was fairly simple: the director and an assistant would wheel the casket into the aisle of the church, the priest would bless and anoint it with Holy Water, and a white cloth would be draped over it (white robes of purity, or something like that). Then the pallbearers would escort the casket up to the front of the church where the priest would start the service.

We pallbearers theoretically had two rows to ourselves, three of us on each side. I made my way to the back via the side aisle where Russet was operating a video camera. Again, at Clare's request, we were taping it. The initial fear was that Clare would be unable to attend, however, she was up for it and was present. The tape will also be used for Jim's wife to see the proceedings, they live in Columbia, South America, and she was unable to travel as she is under very strict doctor's orders as she is pregnant and has had difficult pregnancies in the past.

I took the camera from Russ during a break, she scurried up the aisle to sit with the rest of her family.

As the phrase goes, 'these are the times that try men's souls'. Well, in my case, it was a trial of my arms and back from standing and holding a video camera for almost an hour. It was a full Mass with communion, fortunately I had a program so I knew (sort of) what was happening when. I was standing behind the last pew in the middle of the aisle when I noticed a little pulpit/lectern nearby. I slowly moved to it and used it to brace my arms on, that provided some relief. Finally, at one point, I had to pause the camera to shake some feeling back into my wrists and hands! I did a pretty good job taping, slow zooms and pans, gently walking back to the center aisle when the assembly stood for some part or another.

I think Jim will be pleased with the results.


Eventually the service was over and I had to scurry back up the side aisle to get back with the pallbearers to escort the casket out of the church and back into the hearse. There was a lot of scurrying too and fro after the hearse was loaded as Russet hadn't grabbed Jim's video camera and bag, so I ran back inside and got it all. Then it was off to the cemetery for the graveside service. It was very short, very sweet, and they had a Scotts piper in full gear nearby. I don't know two of the songs played, but the third, as we were leaving, was "Scotland: The Brave." Clare held her hand out the window with a victory sign as she passed the piper. As we passed, I rolled down my window and thanked him for not playing "Amazing Grace." He chuckled and said that it is a trifle overused.

One thing surprised me a little. There was a metal casket-shaped thing next to the grave. I initially thought it was a storage container for the excavated dirt, it turns out that it is a metal shield that is placed over/around the coffin. It's a state requirement, at least in Ohio, that this thing be placed as eventually the lid will probably collapse and cause a sink hole. The metal shield prevents that.


A luncheon followed at the family's favorite restaurant, they laid out a buffet for us that was quite good. It was probably the tastiest meal that Clare had had in her week in the hospital. Eventually everything broke up, some relatives were returning home that afternoon, others the next day or soon thereafter.

Russet and I returned to our hotel and crashed for a while.


That's pretty much everything. I have one more post to make, including the possible appearance of the ghost of Russet's father to put a whammy on my air conditioning to force me to move to Cloudcroft sooner than we'd been expecting (or at least that's one interpretation of it) and a visit to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

But that will wait. I'm tired, it's approaching 4am, I'm posting this and going to bed.