Planning

NOTE: To protect the identity and confidentially of everyone involved all names and when possible locations have been changed.

I woke up to more messages than I did when I arrived at their house the night before. The majority were from well-wishers around the community and those I had been to church with over the years. I had forgotten how many people I knew from years ago. Word sure spread quickly that I was there. 

Grandma and the rest of the family would be arriving later that night and I didn’t want to do much without her. I did however call the funeral director. There were two funeral homes in Cherokee and I would’ve chosen the other one. I knew that family personally and had gone to school with his oldest daughter for as long as I could remember. However, that was one decision that had to be made without me as they were having trouble getting a hold of me at school.

Mr. Williams expressed his condolences. He let me know that she would need some clothes and if there was anything special I wanted to put in the casket to bring that as well. He asked if I knew a hair dresser she liked as she would need her hair and make-up done. The same lady had done our hair for years. Obviously she would need clothes, however I never thought of anything else. I suddenly had a lot more respect for morticians and stylists not realizing what their job involved.

Barb and I discussed the songs she would sing at the funeral. Obviously Amazing Grace, in addition to it just being a traditional funeral song, it was one of my mom’s favorites. Where would any of us be without Amazing Grace? Holy Ground “reach out and claim it, child you are standing on holy ground.” While it was not a typical funeral song, despite the turmoil between my mom and Barb over the years, she loved to hear her sing Holy Ground. The last song we decided on was Special Delivery. While not a popular song, it was certainly appropriate for a funeral. Someday we will all go special delivery and the look on our faces will say it all.

The only other person I was comfortable talking to without grandma was my mom’s boss and the rest of her friends at work. They had all worked together for years and had become a big family. Grandma didn’t have a relationship with any of them so that was one group of people I could speak to without her. 

Connie immediately recognized my voice on the phone. We talked for a few minutes. She of course offered to do anything she could for me. I explained some time that day I would be in the office to speak to her.   

At some point that day Barb drove me to my friend Lori’s house in Cherokee. She was also a friend from church who knew my mom. I was a bit surprised to learn while Barb and Lori had heard of each other, they had never met. Barb came up with the idea to have a night of praise and worship in honor of my mom. Lori concurred. My mom loved praise and worship music, especially when it was played with some rock to it. She was a worse rock n roller than I am. 

Lori and I went to the local newspaper where my mom had been employed. Much like my first step into Amy’s apartment just the day before, the atmosphere changed one step inside. I was of course met with more pairs of open arms than I could count. They all had tears in their eyes. Mine still hadn’t come. 

Lori accompanied me to Connie’s office. She shared with me the entire story. The office always opened for business at 8am Monday-Friday excluding holidays. My mom had never been late in her eight plus years there so at 8:15 Connie began to worry. She first called the phone at our house with no answer. She then remembered grandma was out of state and thought she could have been there as we were watching her house in her absence. There was no answer there either. 

Cherokee is a small town so it doesn’t take more than 10 minutes to get just about anywhere. Conveniently the newspaper was located right in the middle of both houses.  Connie drove to our house and didn’t see her car. When she arrived at my grandma’s house her dark gray Subaru station wagon was parked in front. The door was locked so she called the police. I wasn’t made aware of how long it took officers to arrive. The police broke in the door and found my mom dead on the couch with one arm resting on the back as if she had been watching TV. They didn’t confirm however whether or not the TV was on when they got there. Connie shared, blinking back tears that she thanked the Good Lord she wasn’t able to open the door or she probably would’ve gone right along with her. She understood no funeral arrangements had been made as I was waiting for grandma. She explained they would close the office so everyone had opportunity to attend the service.

After a few more hugs from those with watery eyes I got in Lori’s vehicle and she drove me to the farm where the rest of the family was soon to arrive. I sat at the dining room table for a little while and then I let Lori and Aunt Patty visit. I’m sure they discussed things I wasn’t in a position to understand. 

The basement at the farm had always been a play area of sorts. It was complete with a pool table, a dart board, a fully stocked fridge of junk food and whatever the coolest gaming system was at the time. I have a few memories of playing down there with the extended family when I was younger. I assumed grandma and I would spend the night in the one bedroom that was downstairs. 

There was also a telephone in the basement. I needed to talk to someone normal.  Without giving a thought to long distance charges I called a friend from Bible School. Of course we talked about it, but it was a nice change to talk to someone from my everyday life.

I heard the garage door open and had to go. In all my years going to the farm no one had ever used the front door. We always entered and exited through the garage door. 

I ran upstairs and grandma was the first one at the door. She gave me a hug while at the same time letting out a loving, but heartbreaking sigh. This was the first time I had seen my uncle, who was my mom’s brother and my cousin since their accident just before Thanksgiving. For the severity of the accident they were recovering very well.

I had a fourth song in mind for the funeral; however out of respect to grandma I wanted to run it by her before I asked Barb to sing it. I didn’t have to ask her. Before we all even sat down at the table grandma already said we know she would want us to sing I’ll Fly Away. With that a fourth song was added.

As I expected grandma and I took the downstairs bedroom. We didn’t talk about it a whole lot. There would be plenty of time to talk about it later. Neither of us slept well. It was heartbreaking to me to hear her say twice in her sleep that it’s more than she can bear.

The first stop the next day was to mine and mom’s house to get her clothes. Grandma and my other aunt both offered to help, but I went in alone. I knew the condition of the house and didn’t want them in there yet. I had gotten pretty good at not letting people in the house over the years. 

Mr. Williams told me on the phone the day before that contrary to popular belief your loved one should be buried in clothes that express themselves and they enjoyed wearing, not necessarily dress clothes. I was so glad he said that because my mom was not a dress clothes kind of person. Like mother like daughter I guess. 

My mom was going to be buried in her beloved purple jacket. If she owned anything dressy that would’ve been it. She didn’t wear it a lot, but she loved it. A white top underneath complete with black jeans. She hated shoes so she was barefoot. The special item was a Bible, the original King James in red letter.

We left for the funeral home. We gathered in a small room where I handed him her clothes and the Bible. We wrote the obituary, and planned the service. There was only one problem with the service. I wasn’t sure who was going to officiate it. 

My first choice without question would’ve been Pastor Franklin. He was the pastor of the church my mom and I attended since its conception when I was five or six. It started out with just two or three families meeting in the living room of a couple’s house. It came to be known as “the Church in the Cornfield.”  It was rural Iowa after all. Eventually the church grew enough to get our own name and building. There wasn’t a dry eye in the sanctuary when Pastor Franklin announced his resignation when I was in high school to pursue full time evangelism. Pastor Franklin and his wife were out of town and unfortunately not available. They did however reach out to me via phone to send their love and tell me how bad they felt they couldn’t be there in person. Therefore the new pastor of the church my mom and I were going to in Cherokee would be officiating.     

The burial site was an easy decision. The majority of our family is buried in the family cemetery off of Old River Road. My mom would be buried there next to her brother leaving enough room for grandma to be buried between her children. 

Mom’s weight was unfortunately no secret even though she tried to make it one. As politely as he could Mr. Williams explained that mom was “a good sized lady” and it would take eight pall bearers. I wasn’t sure I knew eight men. That was one decision with which I would have to get back to him. 

Grandma and I opted to get a room at the motel north of town for the next couple days. Grandma’s house only had one bedroom. That topped off with the fact that’s where mom was found just didn’t feel right to stay there. We needed some time together to process everything. The next day the entire community would have one last look at my mom.