I don't remember Sunday very well. I think I went with Adam and Aaron to the funeral home that day. I must have- that is the date on the check. I didn't write the check. I tried, but I had to void it. I asked Aaron to write it, so I could sign it. Greg at the funeral home was quiet, deferential, polite. I just wanted it to be correct- kosher- according to the community's practices.
Ken and I hadn't talked about this part. It was on our to-do list, truly.
I think it was Sunday when Mitchell and Macy, William and Madeline, and Diane all came. Maybe it was Saturday afternoon? I think it was Sunday. Mitchell's birthday! Mitch and Macy, Will and Madeline, Diane spent time hanging with Claire and Kevin as well as me. They took Claire and Kevin for a long walk, spent the time. So important.
I think it was Sunday when my friend Sherry came in. Maybe it was Monday. I can't recall. She drove in from North Carolina, stayed at her sister's house 45 minutes away, and showed up every day to be my shadow, my emotional body guard.
I think it was Sunday when Adam, Jacob, Jude all shopped for suits, and Beth returned the rental car and traded for our Chrysler Town & Country, and I met with 5 or 6 year old Ellie, and Sara her mom and Miriam, Ellie's months-old sister, and my grandchildren Effie (7) and Matan (2 10/12) and Jude (11) and Lucy (8) checking out the pets in the pet store near the Men's Wearhouse where the guys were shopping. Holding a baby and watching the delight of children looking at ferrets and kittens and beta fish and finches helped.
I don't remember Monday, not really. I'm reassembling the memories based on dates on checks, what I know happened, knowing that the funeral was Tuesday, so on Sunday this must have happened, on Monday this must have happened.
On Monday we went to the cemetery. That's what the date on the check says. Aaron drove me and Adam and ?Jenna? did Jenna come? I think so- I think she walked with Adam to see the actual plot. I didn't - I waited in the car with Aaron, using his shoulder to cry on. I couldn't walk to see that piece of earth, not that day. Adam- all the kids- tried to spare me the trip to the cemetery altogether, but I had to be physically present. I had to physically sign the papers, pay for the land, receive a deed, contract for services.
Food kept arriving at our house. So much mideastern food. Salads. Vats of tuna fish. We made it through the egg salad. We all ate way more tuna than you should in a month- in a single day.
I texted my brother Monday night to see if he could drive me and my family to the funeral on Tuesday. He was glad to do it. He came as early as we asked on Tuesday. He brought dress socks for Adam, that we'd asked for- although Adam had found socks in the meantime.
Adam borrowed one of Ken's yarmulkes. He asked if he could keep it. I said of course.
Sherry met me at the funeral. Marcey came later, hung out with Kim, who was with Meg and Bethany.
The most beautiful funeral I've ever seen. So many people said so. It was. It was beautiful. It was heart breaking. It was hard, hard, hard.
People showing up that I hadn't seen in 20 years. People that were part of our youth theatre troupes. People Ken had worked with. Family. Friends. Standing room only in the temple sanctuary. Zoom attendees were close to 70 screens.
The K-8 school where Ken worked for almost 20 years closed the school so that staff could attend. Half or more of the staff attended.
I let my brother figure out where to put the car for the processional. Made my way to the bathroom. Sherry was with me, bringing me water and tissues. I hugged some of those arriving, and then was grateful to go to the quiet family room.
We waited for Rabbi Debbie, coming with Beth from the local hotel Beth had booked for her family, and for Debbie- to be closer to the temple.
When Debbie arrived, we received the kriah ribbons, tore them and said the blessing. Marton was there, and Rochelle, and Aunt Lola. More. Family, Ken's family.
We went in to the sanctuary.
Bob G began, playing and singing Blackbird from the Beatles. Rabbi Debbie began. I can't remember the service, only that it was kind, and powerful, and moving, and heartfelt, and so so so hard. I remember flashes: the kids holding one another up after each of their speeches. Beth thanking all for coming- as Ken would have. Jacob declaring that his dad was a monkhead (- and he was). Adam reflecting on doing the dishes with his dad, Adam's evolution of understanding. Claire so grateful that Ken was her papa. Kevin surprising us all with a reason to smile in our pain. Rabbi Debbie reading my words, because I could not, and having a gentle smile but also tears in her eyes. Rising for kaddish. Bob G playing In My Life by the Beatles to close the service.
We followed the plain pine coffin out of the sanctuary, out to the hearse, the pall bearers walking along side. Will and Mitch. Aaron and Rob. Who else? I will need to ask, I can't remember.
Grief induced brain fog. Common, I'm told.
Claire had been holding up so far, better than expected. She was ready, however, to have a Xanax before facing the cemetery and the burial. She needed food with it. We were in our car, and I had no food. Sherry (still my shadow) saw Danny. "Danny will have food!" We flagged him down, and of course he had snacks in his Dada Backpack, and Claire took the Xanax with a kid's granola bar.
We drove to the cemetery.
It was raining that day (it was raining: family joke, on me). Somehow the rain stopped, once we were assembled by the grave. Brief graveside service. Kaddish again. Lining up, each of us, to put a shovel or two of dirt into the grave.
Some of us left. I left, giving permission for many in the processional to head toward the temple and lunch.
Many stayed. Marton organized the folks to shovel the dirt, the last gift given, covering the grave by the work of human hands, one shovel full at a time. My kids all stayed. Rabbi Debbie stayed.
Jake told me the rain lifted while they shoveled; started again when they had to wait for more dirt to be brought. The rain lifted again when the dirt arrived, and the shovels came out again.
They all stayed to the end, Jacob told me. Until it was done.
By being at the temple, I was able to - by my example- give permission for others to eat. It was important for my dad and his wife Doris, other elders. Doris exclaimed over the delicious food. I'm sure it was.
I'm sure it was.
After a while, those who had stayed at the graveside returned to get something to eat. Maybe Adam and Jenna had gone back to our house? I don't remember- I know they were there at the lunch for a moment at least, found Marcey to ask her to make the EARLY morning drive to take Rabbi Debbie to the airport the next day.
I tried to sit for a moment with people who had come so far, to appreciate them, their kindness and care. I sat with Bob-with-a-beard. I sat with Kim and Meg. I spoke with Leanna and Reva. I know I spoke with others, too, but... so much is lost in the fog of grief.
I went home, eventually. I tried to rest.
We assembled again at the temple for the first night of shiva. Back in the sanctuary. Debbie had brought her shofar- mostly so that it wouldn't be left behind during her rushed flight. It's Elul, she said- should I sound the shofar?
YES, I said.
So we had the abbreviated service for afternoon and evening, an opportunity to say kaddish again in community.
Debbie blew the shofar at the end of the service.
That was the right thing to do.
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