Funerals and Daddies

Original post Feb. 26, 2006 on Myspace
Blogging is a discipline that like exercise is one that I do not always do well. I've had lots of things that I could have been writing about, but nothing quite got into actual word form. The thoughts just rolled around in my head (probably where they should have stayed). Last week was dominated by three things, a professional conference that lasted from Sunday until Tuesday, my father's 60th birthday, and a funeral.

I'll get to the birthday and the funeral in a minute. Just a note about conferences. Truth be told they are not about learning new things (though sometimes that happens). Conferences are about getting the heck out of your normal work environment for a few days and hopefully getting the opportunity to talk to people who do similar things all expenses paid. In that way my conference achieved its goal. So, having met with colleagues from around the region (this was a regional conference, the national is in the summer and is just a more extreme version of the regional), I headed back home. I was in no hurry. I would have been happy to have had a lengthy though not overnight delay. I had my portable DVD player and a few movies. I was just fine in my own little world. However, everything was on time. Then, jarringly as the plane landed, I was back in the "real" world the work world, the "you have 6 new messages" world.
So, there I was listening to my messages somewhat absent-mindedly when I got the message. The soft voice of my friend/co-worker giving me the news that her 72 year old father had died unexpectedly that day.

I called her as soon as I could. My friend is a "salt of the earth" kind of person who does for others easily and does not except help readily. She is the only child of her mother, the product of a brief relationship between her father and mother. Despite the fact that her father never had custody of her and she never took his last name, she always knew who he was. Everybody in their little town knew him. Though he did not raise her (her mother did an excellent job of that), he always treated her as his baby girl, and she always treated him as Daddy.
Back to the call. I hate calls like this (not that I have had many). What do you say? Whatever it is, it always comes out awkwardly but the basics were something like this: So sorry for your loss. (I know) How did it happen? (Stroke, in his sleep) Is there anything I can do? (Not really, but you could bring my laptop from work). How do you say the right thing on the occasion of the death of a loved one, especially a parent? For her part, she seemed very calm and ever busy. She's a methodical person by nature. This is the reaction I expected from her. Ever the helper, she was focused on planning the funeral. After all it is the responsibility of children to bury our parents.

I went to her mother's house (where she was staying) on Wednesday night and helped type up directions to the church and funeral home for the out of town attendees. We said very little to each other. I only stayed for a couple of hours. It felt like that was about 2 hours too long. I know that it's not true. I know that it is usually good to have someone around when you have a difficult thing to do, but that does not make it feel any less than awkward. I left feeling good for having been able to help a little, but also feeling a bit uneasy, like I was a voyeur looking in helplessly on someone's pain.

On my way home I called my dad; it was the day before his 60th birthday. I normally would have waited to call him on the actual day, but I felt compelled to call him on this day. I wanted to tell him I loved him and that I am very proud of him. I wanted to make sure he knew. Now I have a good relationship with my Daddy. He is an earnest, quirky little man, who always tries to do right. He does not always succeed (no one does), but he always tries. But, he is getting on in years. Oddly, I never thought of my dad as old until recently. 60 sounds old to my ear when I talk about my Daddy. I never thought about Daddy not being in my life. I never thought about having to plan a funeral for my Daddy (or my Mother for that matter).

Despite the fact that I am "grown". I have my own life. I have a good job. I own things. Mommy and Daddy are still the "responsible" adults in the family. As I watched my friend stoically, methodically, sadly work to arrange her father's funeral, I could not help but wonder what it would be like to plan theirs. I seriously got the shudders and my eyes welled up.
I would not know where to begin. I guess I would just start and hope that my friends would help. Maybe they would come over to my house and type up directions to the church to distribute and sit in supportive silence with me while I did the difficult work that must be done. I hope I did right by my friend and I hope I will do right by my parents as she did right by her father for whom she planned a lovely and loving sendoff. She did good for her Daddy. I am sure he was proud of her.