I WOKE UP AT 7:30am feeling just as exhausted as I had when I fell asleep. Mornings are always hard for me but this one was especially tough. I really had to push myself to get out of bed. I laid there thinking for a minute, and one of the worst thoughts to wake up to is the realization that it’s the final day you will ever lay eyes on your wife. The idea sent a shudder rippling through my body.
Even though the funeral home wasn’t too far, the fact that we had to be there by 8:30am meant I already overslept. I hurried down the hall to wake the girls. Just as I started to get them ready, my neighbors Jim and Holly came over with that very task in mind and that was a lifesaver. Holly tended to the girls while I got ready. We all had a quick breakfast and were out the door.
The car ride to the funeral home was a lot like the one the day before: very quiet and very solemn. There were no tears yet, but there was an uneasy feeling that hung in the air. I was wrestling with my own feelings and more scared to go today than I had been to go to the wake. Jackson drove by himself so it was only me and the girls in the car. They zapped me with a few questions, asking whether we’d get to see her again and if we’d get to see her go into the ground? It broke my heart to hear these little girls ask these questions. They should have had their whole lives ahead of them with their mother. They should’ve been riding with their Mommy to some Girl Scout meeting or gymnastics class, but instead they were riding with their Dad to Mommy’s funeral.
I looked in the rear view mirror at them at one point when I was answering their questions, and that vision will stay with me forever. Even now, as the girls are well into their late teens and early twenties, I wonder if I am filling that void for them.
When we walked into the funeral home, it seemed like everyone got there before us. My folks, my sisters, and my cousins were all there with their families waiting for us. Her family was there too, which was very tough. The plan was for us to have a private, final viewing before the doors opened for the public. I held the girls tight to me as the anxiety and butterflies went into overdrive. I knew this was it. The funeral director opened the doors for us and just like yesterday, the tears started immediately as we walked up to Gina. The girls were hugging me as they talked to her. They reached out to touch her so I did with them.
I hadn’t touched her yesterday, so this was the first time I had touched her since she died. When I touched her it was weird. She felt so different. I don’t know what I was expecting but it didn’t feel like her. Her hand was cold and rigid. It was a surreal experience and I thought right then, “…this is just a body. This isn’t my wife.”
Our time in there was short as the funeral was scheduled to start shortly, so we took our seats upfront as the people started coming in. This was a pretty quick event. The service was short. At one point I was paying attention, but with my arms around the girls I was staring at Gina and zoned out. I wanted to look at her as long as I could because I knew in an hour or so I would never be able to lay eyes on her again.
As the service ended, everyone paraded past her casket to say their final goodbye. Once the final person had gone by it was just us. We stood up and immediately the pit in my stomach sunk my knees. I was fully aware that this was it, this was the last sight of her and the girls knew it too. You could feel it in their sobbing. I held them tight as we walked up to Gina in part to comfort them and in part to comfort me. We all cried and embraced. My heart was breaking right there. It was breaking for Gina; the girls, Jackson, and for me. This went on for about five minutes but it felt like forever. None of us wanted to walk away. Eventually I had to pull the girls back and told them to say goodbye to Mommy. The girls put a few things in the casket that they wanted Mommy to have and we turned to leave.
As we left, I had this permeating feeling through all the tears that we were leaving something behind. We walked out of that room as we are now, with Gina behind us. We left that room strong, but broken.
The casket remained open when we left and I’m glad it was. I don’t know that I would have been able to handle watching them close it on her. They didn’t close it until after we were out of the room and had closed the doors behind us. Like every other step of this process, my folks and sisters were waiting for us. The girls were both crying with one on each side of me kind of resting their heads on my hips. My mom came right up to us and just held us. The only other people there were the pallbearers, and they were just standing there trying to not make eye contact with me. I scanned each of them and you could see they all had the same sad look on their faces and the same tear in the corner of their eyes.
It wasn’t too long before they reopened the doors for the pallbearers to carry Gina to the hearse. I took the girls and Jackson and we let the casket lead us. The kids stared at their mom while I made it a point to look everywhere except the casket. As we came through the doorway and entered outside, I could see into the first few cars and you could see it in their eyes. Not one of them was looking at the casket, they were looking at the girls. I could almost hear them through their windshields saying to their husbands and wives how sad it was for those little girls to have to grow up without a Mommy. Honest to God, it was as if I was watching a movie. As we got to the hearse I still didn’t watch as they loaded Gina in. I watched other people watch, but I didn’t look myself. I just kept my arms around the girls and waited for someone to tell us to get into the limo.
From there it was on to the church for a memorial service. I selected this particular church because Gina and I had gone here together before. I liked it for the sentimental attachment, but also because it was Christian without being as intense as her Christian Fellowship church. Even though I selected the church, I let Jackson handle the ‘booking’ of the pastor because he and his mom had been so involved in their church. As it would turn out, we ended up with an associate pastor and not a pastor who knew Gina. As soon as the pastor started speaking, I wished that he had actually known her. He seemed so damn generic in what he said. At this point there was no changing it and besides, I didn’t want to hurt Jackson’s feelings or offend him in any way.
This would have been uneventful if not for two things. First and foremost, I wanted to play the video that we gave Gina for Christmas at this last stop. As it turns out they weren’t set up to accommodate this; however, I would’ve liked to see them make a little more of an effort. After all, this wasn’t some rinky-dinky establishment. It’s a mega church with large-scale production capabilities. It might not have been a huge deal to many people to have this request denied, but I’m a bit of a fireball anyhow…not to mention I was short on temper and full of emotions that day. Never a good mix.
This was also where my eulogy for her was to be delivered. I chose to do it here because it would be based around a spiritual service as opposed to a ‘death-house’ of a funeral home, and Gina would have preferred that, being as she was very much in faith. When it came time for the eulogy, my brother-in-law stepped forward. I asked him to read it because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get through it; it was too much for me. It was hard enough to write. As he started, it became more than obvious I was correct – I never would have been able to read it. He didn’t get through the first sentence and everything I worried about in being the guy on display, people looking at me, etc, went out the window because I lost it. The girls, Jackson, me…we all lost it. After all he wasn’t just reading a speech, he KNEW Gina. They were family. He did a better job than I could have ever dreamed of doing.
Next was a quiet ride to the cemetery. I kept rubbing the girls’ shoulders but mostly I was trying to compose myself. As hard as it was seeing her in that casket, watching them put her in the ground was something that I wasn’t ready for. Here I was, the guardian of these three kids, worrying whether I would be able to hold it together myself, much less hold them together.
When we arrived at the cemetery, I held the kids back as they unloaded Gina from the hearse. I know they had plenty of unpleasant pictures burned into their minds already, but I didn’t think it would be a good visual for them to see their mother’s casket pulled out of a hearse as if it were a desk set from IKEA. So we sat in the limo as the people emerged from their cars. I noticed a few people who didn’t come to the wake but made it to the funeral and that made me smile. It’s always nice when people care like that, especially when it’s that order. A lot of people make an appearance at a wake because that’s easy. It’s after work, so you can swing by on your way home. A quick fifteen-minute appearance and you’re done. But for them to take off work and dedicate their morning to something like this, that really says something not only about the people, but about what Gina (or we) meant to them.
I was hesitant to get out of the car. I never did enjoy the spotlight, so being on display those few days felt a little awkward for me. The night before was different because it was solely about her, but the cemetery is where people tend to focus on the loved one left behind. Think about it, in any movie from “Old School” to the end of “We Are Marshall,” who does the gravesite or cemetery chapel scene focus on? The grieving ones left behind. It’s no different in real life. I knew full well that everyone would occasionally glance at the casket, but they continually turned their focus to me and the kids.
We finally got out of the car and moved on to the gravesite for the final send off. I had planned on a graveside prayer from the pastor and then my fraternity brothers were going to do a fraternity send off to her. They asked me at the wake about doing this and I agreed. After all, Gina knew and loved these guys and I thought it would be nice. Granted they were my college frat buddies, but they meant more than that to both of us. We had grown to be great friends and very much in each other’s lives ever since then, so it wasn’t like some “Animal House” reunion or anything like that. I realize it was a bit unorthodox but I wasn’t worried about that. Odd, considering I was so worried about being a focal point throughout this process, but I didn’t care. I thought it was a nice parting gesture from my guys and it was something that I think would have made Gina smile.
I found out later some people kind of spooked as they pulled up to the grave. There was a gazebo pretty close to Gina’s gravesite and a lot of people thought that might have been some sort of vision she had. You see, Gina hired a woman to paint a mural in our house and her painting included a gazebo.
As we stood huddled around the grave, that’s when I found out Jackson had told the pastor he wasn’t needed for this part. To say I was mortified is an understatement. No pastor at the gravesite? There everyone was, standing in the freezing Chicago weather, and all they (and Gina) were going to get was a fraternity brother send off? Not only that, there were no chairs for anyone to sit on. I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t even cry. The service was quick and that was that. We didn’t have her lowered into the ground in front of everyone, but in this instance it wasn’t an option. This particular cemetery doesn’t do that when the public is there. I don’t know that I would have done it anyhow.
After we made the lunch announcement, everyone dispersed pretty quickly. Like I said, it was pretty damn cold. Even the girls were ready to head for the hills, and my frozen ass was okay with that. After all, I figured we could always come back.
We held the luncheon at the same place we had Jackson’s high school graduation party a few years earlier, and it was only five minutes away. It was a small gathering; maybe fifty people showed up and the bulk of them were immediate family. I always thought people fell into two groups when it came to a funeral luncheon: they were either close family and friends or they felt awkward about hanging around and eating for free. At this point, it didn’t really matter to me. I was glad for the people who came. My mind was a mixed bag of thoughts and feelings between being relieved that everything was over and scared of what the future held.
Between my folks and Nona, our housekeeper and nanny, I knew I could relax a little. The girls were better hanging out with their cousins. I think being around kids their own age really helped them shake things loose a little bit. They were able to bop around a bit and let go of the heavy load that had been on top of them for the last few days. We stayed a few hours and that really helped me too. I was able to sit back and finally take a deep breath. I didn’t have to be on. I didn’t have to make the rounds. I was able to sit down at a table and breathe. Everyone found their way to me to say thanks and offer their condolences one last time. When it was time to go my folks walked us to the car and we said goodbye there. As we loaded into the car and pulled out of the parking lot, I actually smiled. I smiled because as scared as I was about the uncertainty of what lay ahead for us as a family, I knew this was the last time we would ever have to drive away from all of this.