July 31, 2024
Today was our first visit to the funeral home.
We arrived a few minutes early and were greeted with a warm smile from the clerk at the front desk. She instructed us to take a seat and the funeral Directors assistant will be out shortly.
I looked around and thought, yeah, this is a funeral home. The interior was made up to be as inviting as possible and felt somewhat familiar. Then I remembered we were at this funeral home a few years ago for a service for my husband’s nephew. But today, it looked totally different. It looked different because of the reason I was here this time. We were here to discuss the funeral service for my son
I sat there still in disbelief as to why we were here.
I looked around the room and saw pictures hanging on the dark wooden walls. There was also a display stand filled with several types of pamphlets about death and how to handle it. I took a pamphlet from the display and began to read it; “Surviving the death of a child.” A stream of tears began to flow down my cheeks.
This is all too real, I thought.
I reached over to grab a tissue from a lavender floral box on the tiny wooden end table beside me.
And cried.
The Assistant Funeral Director came to the lobby a few minutes later and led us back to a small conference room. We sat down and he expressed his condolences. He explained, since this was a preliminary meeting, he would provide the basic information, give us a package pricing sheet and answer any questions we had. If we decide to allow them to handle John’s services, we should call them by tomorrow to schedule a meeting with The Funeral Director, Mr. Caliman, on August 2nd.
He briefly explained the various packages and my sister-mom, Cindy, took copious notes and asked all the questions. To be honest I couldn’t think straight and could only answer a few questions so she stepped in just like my mother would have done had she still been here with us.
The meeting was short which was fine with me. Discussing John’s funeral is the last thing I want to do right now. All I wanted to do was go home and cry.
We returned home just in time to catch my mother’s sisters, Aunt Kay, Aunt Marilyn and Ms. Debbie as they were dropping off a large pan of baked spaghetti, several bags of mixed salad and garlic bread. They greeted me with warm hugs and lots of love as they expressed their condolences but didn’t stay too long. They could see how exhausted I was.
Every time I see my aunts, it makes me miss my mom so much. I really need a hug from her and to hear her say everything will be alright.
