Seriously already.
The past couple of weeks has been rough. I knew the funerals would be hard, especially because of the freshness of my uncles death, but the intensity honestly surprised me. We got in late Thursday to NY because of storms, and when finally in bed, laid wide awake being three hours behind, wondering if sleep would come. My dads stuff was over two days. Friday, we had the church service, and I cried the whole way through. I said to F after, I am surprised I cried so much, his response, I have been waiting to see that. It is not as if I have not felt the weight of his death and shed tears, but this was a deep layer, one that I have not touched in a long time. My sisters got up and spoke, and I was last. None of us knew what the other would say, but we wove a story of our experiences that gave an honest tribute to him. My niece sang twice. There are people born with innate talents, me, mine is having a big mouth. Her, an amazing voice. She sang “Wishing you were here again” and “Ave Maria.” There was not a dry eye in the place. I looked up at the ceiling of the church, and connected the story he would tell me after Bella died. Where the ceiling meets is glass (so the “A” part is glass). He would tell me during church, he would see her running up there. That alone, brought many tears over the service.
Seeing so many people there, all to say goodbye. Many hugs went around, many people whom I do not get to see often (this country is quite spread out). Cousins that I adore, cousins I had not met, but thanks to Facebook, felt like I knew. All for my dad. What an initiation for F! He got to meet my Italian family in one fell swoop! And of course, he did it all in stride. We went to the cemetery after, and again, I was not prepared. It was a military internment of his ashes, full honors. My sisters, and Elise, his wife were all in front as the soldiers went through the motions stone faced, but I imagine, full of emotion inside, as they honored one of their own, one that served his country for 20+ years. At the end, they presented the flag. Again, more tears. That evening, there was the first of celebrations in his name a party he would have been proud of. All of us coming together to share stories, share wine, food, more stories, paying tribute to this man who touched so many.
The next morning we went to the memorial that my nephew did for his Eagle Project, one honoring veterans. Proud and honored does not capture the depth of emotion that my dad felt. It was one thing to be honored by your country, but a whole other level when your grandson goes through the planning and execution of such a complicated project to honor his grandfather and all veterans. We planted some flowers along with some of his ashes. Next we went to Flushing where my Grandmother, Grandfather, two uncles and Aunt were buried. A little of him went in front of each grave, completing that circle of life, finally resting in peace with his family. More tears.
We went back to my sisters and got ready for 30-40 people to come over that evening. Because, it would not be a celebration of life if there was not more food and wine. We all were a bit tired and raw, but for me, it was such a gift to get to talk and bond with family that I don’t get to see often being so far. Being in a different generation than them, I grew up hearing stories (I did not meet most of them until I was an adult) and idolizing them. I still kinda do. But this was the first time I felt apart of the family, on equal ground with everyone. That I recognize is my own shit, not anything anyone had done or said. That was me being “the baby” of the family finally growing up into her own. So as I worked on one of his bottles of whiskey, we all made a memory together, a notch in the history of our family, a celebration of this man that we all loved so, a man who even not there, was still the center of it all as if he were.
The next day, a group of us went into the city. What a treat! We took the boat over to Ellis Island, took some time walking around, exploring, and then back for a nip before heading home. Again, more quality time with people I love so.
Monday, we went to honor and say goodbye to my uncle. There were tears, but not as many, as we were all raw and wrung out. I cannot say enough how glad I am to be able to be there. He was like another father to me. Another great man. I am lucky to have had both in my life.
We flew back that night, laid our heads down to rest around 1130pm. I started feeling a cough come on during the flight, and going into a 14 hour conference/panel/dinner did not help. I was jet-lagged, exhausted physically and emotionally, and barely knew what end was up. It was there that I found out that another person whom I admired passed. One of the facilitators of our violent death group at the Dougy Center died of an aneurysm the Saturday before. She was to be honored for 30 years of volunteering at the Dougy Center the day before. It takes a special person to be part of our group, it is not an easy one being a support for families affected by murder or suicide. She was mostly with the kids, but sometimes with the adults. Special indeed. A loss to our community.
I got through the conference on Tuesday, made it through mostly on Wednesday, leaving in the afternoon so I could try to take care of the cold that had settled in for a good ride. I had a full day of patients Thursday, and it felt good to be there. I joke and say, this I know how to do, it helps me get out of my head taking care of others. The weekend was mostly resting.
Where am I now. Numb. Trying to catch up, get through my list that seemed to have tripled in size. Trying to have patience with myself, my family. Acknowledging the emotions as they come. But also recognizing, damn, it has been a lot. I have stopped saying I can’t do any more death, because, well, that did not work. Stupid universe humor. Obviously I can. That being said, I told F the other day, I am just tired from being sad, the weight becomes unbearable at times. I know it is normal, until it is not. I am watching. Spring arrives today, and as I gently ran/walked through the neighborhood, I saw the new growth, the flowers sprouting everywhere up and out from the decaying leaves of winter, and am reminded of the beauty surrounding me. I reflected on the people who have passed, the memories I get to carry with me and pass on. I breathed in gratefullness of those close to me, those who are such an amazing support, with whom I cannot imagine trying to weather this alone. Take time today to hug someone you love, one truly does not know the amount of time we get, only that at some point it will end.
NYC skyline, never gets old
Together