Even when surrounded by loved ones, I feel alone.
|5:25 PM|
Natalie
Mark enters the room to give us a five-minute warning before the public would be allowed to enter. My mom calls us over to the edge of the room.
Where do we stand? What do we say?
I feel completely out of place, and my feet already hurt.
Did anyone ask Mark how long these things typically take anyways?
Kristen
Everyone has their own story of how Dad impacted their life. I’m so overwhelmed with every detail of inside jokes or songs he would sing in the office. I’m listening intently, holding onto each word of their stories. I’m getting to know the work side of my dad through these people. I find myself laughing with strangers, crying with strangers, working through the unimaginable with strangers.
Thomas
I’m laughing loud enough to catch the attention of those further down in the line, but I don’t care. Lamar’s impression of Dad dancing through the security gates at work has me at a loss for words. I can imagine Dad so clearly in his story. I’m blown away that Dad left enough of an impression for the security guard to come to his viewing. I don’t think Lamar knows how grateful I am for his story and the laughter he brought me tonight.
Natalie
I have to ask the woman standing in front of me to repeat her story. I couldn’t have heard that right.
“I was an intern for your dad’s group a few years ago, and when I found out I had to come today to tell your family the impact he had on my life.”
The lump in my throat grows bigger. He wasn’t only coaching me in my life and career, he was doing it for so many others.
Dawn
I cannot believe how many people are coming. People who worked with Corey ages ago and haven’t spoken to him in years. People who didn’t even know Corey but are good friends of the kids. People who have worked with Corey for such a long time, I can immediately recount several stories Corey told me about each one of them.
I turn around and grab another tissue for the person standing in front of me retelling their stories of Corey. I shove down my own grief to help comfort those around me. I thought I was going to have to be strong for my kids, but it turns out I need to comfort my kids plus those coming through the line. I need to stay strong for them, for everyone, for Corey.
With each additional story of their personal connection to Corey, I find myself increasingly more astounded by the number of people who have come to honor him and support our family. Taking time out of their night to be with us, cry with us, and laugh with us.
|7:38 PM|
Natalie
The swollen blue eyes reflecting back at me don’t look familiar. Maybe it’s the dim lighting in the funeral home’s bathroom, but I barely recognize the woman in the mirror. I splash cold water on my face in an attempt to make the reflection in the mirror look more familiar. But it doesn’t help and in the back of my mind I knew it wouldn’t. This is how it’s going to be for the rest of my life: unrecognizable.
Before my brain can process the creak of the door opening, two women come barging into the bathroom with loud, distinct laughter. I cringe at the noise. I can’t imagine laughing again. I make eye contact with the first blonde woman to enter. She’s tall and her hair falls flawlessly down her back. I don’t recognize her, but there were a countless number of people tonight, I can barely keep anyone straight. I’m exhausted and we’ve already run over our time by half an hour. My eyes dart between her and her brunette friend. I watch the guilt come over their faces and listen to both of them lose their breath. I cringe more as I watch them try to recall their laughter.
“We were just laughing about a story of Corey,” one of the woman spits out, her voice sounds embarrassed frantically looking at her friend for back-up.
“Yeah, we, um…” her friend chimes in, trying to add noise to avoid the awkward silence which followed next.
Before either of them can say anything else, I jump in. “It’s fine.”
I try to show the sincerity in my eyes the best I can.
“Seriously, it’s fine. He would want us laughing.”
I grab a paper towel to dry my hands and cheeks as I walk out the door. Is this how it’s always going to be? Everyone feeling uncomfortable around the family who just lost their father? People making up excuses for why they are laughing in my presence? Will it ever feel comfortable to laugh again with or around me?
Dawn
The final company are gathering their things to leave the funeral home. I look around at the mostly empty room. My body feels drained and my heart numb. A familiar dark haired, tall figured woman in the corner of the room catches my attention. Jess.
I race over, and tap her on her shoulder. I’ve been dying to thank her since Tuesday, but it didn’t feel right to do so in the middle of the crowded room. She turns to face me and wraps me in another tightly gripped hug. Friends are angels in disguise.
“How are you doing?”
She slightly tilts her head and narrows her eyes as she asks. Sincerity on her face.
Not having an answer, I redirect the conversation. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for the book you placed on Corey’s desk for me.”
Her head turns back and her eyes look to the side as she tries to recall.
Her squinched eyes come back to me when she responds, “What book?”
Why does her voice sound so befuddled?
“You know, the journal.”
Her eyes don’t give anything up. Maybe reminding her of the title will help?
“It’s gonna be okay...”
My voice trails off, leaving the sentence for her to finish.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dawn.”
She’s slowly shaking her head in confusion.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t.”
If it wasn’t her, then who would it have been?
“Is there a way to see who was in Corey’s office before I got there Tuesday morning?”
I need to know who to thank.
“No one.”
Her eyes locked on mine as if the answer is obvious.
“His door was locked Sunday night. No one was in there before you.”
How can this be? Surely, someone left it for me. Corey wasn’t the type of person to have a self-help journal. My mind is racing trying to think of who it is. Is it possible he got it during one of his department’s white elephant exchanges? A joke during a trying time? Was it meant to be that I found it on Tuesday? The irony of it all swarms around me.
Jess must recognize I need a moment alone to regroup, because she leans in for another hug. Her words softly whisper in my ear, “Stay strong. We’re always in your corner.”
I’m reminded once more, friends are angels in disguise.
Part VIII
FRIDAY
MARCH 29TH
- EIGHTEEN -
|4:13 AM|
Dawn
The silence in the room is terrifying.
I’m lying wide-eyed in bed with complete darkness surrounding me. Yet, the loneliness of the king-sized bed isn’t what terrifies me-- it’s the silence.
This is how it’s going to be when everyone leaves after the services. This is how it’s going to be when it’s six months later and people have forgotten to keep reaching out. This is how it’s going to be when my children get busy with new jobs and new relationships.
My heart is racing with immense fear but I don’t bother forming tears. I’m not sad. I’m scared. I’m scared of the unknown.
I won’t have anyone to talk to in the morning when I’m getting ready, or at dinner when the kids go out for drinks.
I can barely blink; my fear is consuming me.
How many hours will I go without needing to utter a word?
|9:28 AM|
Natalie
The clock reads nearly half past nine and I know that means we’ll be leaving for the funeral home so
on.
I walk into the bathroom and take one more long look at the reflection in the mirror. The feeling of tears welling up in my eyes is growing as I imagine what the next few hours will look like. The thought of standing in front of other people makes my face feel warm and I know I’m blushing before my eyes confirm the rosy, red cheeks in the mirror.
I need to do a perfect job today. I can’t disappoint you today… or any day of my life.
I let my mind wander to starting my job in a few months.
He was so excited for me to begin my career. He had told everyone at work about me completing the CPA exams.
A smile begins to creep across my face, before my self-doubt stops it from getting any further.
Will I even know what I’m doing or will I be a flop? Will I be able to succeed without you?
My face is getting redder. My body temperature is rising.
What is wrong with me?
I immediately redirect my eyes to the ceiling because I can’t bare to see what I look like as my insecurities rise.
Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of my life? I’m not sure what I’m searching for, but I keep facing upward. Not being sure of anything without you here? Wanting to make you so proud that my expectations for myself are so high? Too high that I get embarrassed by everything too easily?
My ears are ringing and my hands start to feel clammy.
Relax, Natalie.
I zip up my dress and hope it’s tight enough to hold in all of my insecurities and doubts.
|10:47 AM|
Thomas
“I’m gonna step outside for a second.”
Kristen shakes her head in acknowledgement. As I’m walking outside, I can feel the vomit coming up. I race behind the trees and let it all out. Shit. I need to get this under control before the funeral starts. This is the third time I’ve puked this morning. I finish spitting out the last bit of it and wipe my mouth.
Natalie is staring at me when I turn around.
I yell out, “Jeez dude! You scared me.”
She whispers back, “Not feeling good?”
She looks down at her feet and answers herself before I can, “I’m not either.”
I walk over to her side and wrap my arm around her.
“We better head back in. I’m sure they’re looking for us.” I tell her.
When we get back inside, our immediate family is waiting inside the gathering room. Mom notices our return and calls for everyone’s attention.
“Thank you everyone for being with us today. Your presence gives us strength and we’re grateful to have your love and support. I’d like to bow our heads and say an ‘Our Father’ together before processing into the chapel.”
Everyone gathers into a circle and holds hands. I’m standing between Natalie and Kristen. As the prayer begins, I can feel Kristen’s hand tugging with each silent sob. I open my eyes to look at her, but my mom’s face catches my attention first. I watch the tears slowly roll down her face. With all eyes closed, she can finally let go of her emotions. Her disguised fear and sadness have a moment to show themselves when everyone stops watching. I shut my eyes as I hear the prayer coming to an end. I don’t want her to think anyone noticed her moment of weakness.
|11:00 AM|
Natalie
I take each step slowly, never lifting my eyes from the floor. I have no idea how many people are seated inside the chapel, but I’m terrified to make eye contact with anyone. I can’t start crying now or I’ll never be able to stand up and speak.
Brandon
The entire room hushes as the sound of the family’s footsteps come near. My heart is racing; I’m so anxious to see them, to see Natalie. She tries to be so strong like her mother; barely letting anyone in.
Kristen rounds the corner first. I watch her strategically take each breath. Focusing on every inhale and exhale. Her head turns towards me and my nerves intensify. How can I help her? Should I smile? I don’t want to make her cry. As her eyes focus in on mine, I can feel my face try to offer her strength but the pain runs too deep. My mind flashes back to her on Sunday when she could barely control her heavy weeping. I try to shake the thought from my mind, and I turn away. I can’t help her; I’m making it worse. What good have I been this week?
My gaze falls on Natalie next. Her head hangs low and she doesn’t attempt to look up. I fight the urge to run to her. I want to wrap her in my arms. I want to do anything to take away her pain. My eyes begin to swell and my throat tightens as I try to hold back my tears. I will do anything for her, I hope she knows that.
Thomas follows Natalie in and is watching his sisters intensely. I know he feels responsible for protecting them now.
Mrs. Owen is the final person to enter the chapel. She looks so put together. She is doing a great job trying to be strong. However, to those who know her, her veil of strength isn’t masking her grief-stricken face as well as she thinks. I know she is suffering, her kids know she is suffering. I think back to a quote Natalie once read me from a book she loved, “the eyes that do not weep are often the saddest eyes of them all.”
Kristen
The beginning of the ceremony is a blur. I’m too busy focusing on my part and not messing anything up to pay attention to anything else. After the opening remarks and prayer, I hear the music begin to play and know it’s our cue to stand up. My legs tremble with fear and the short walk to the podium is taking hours. My throat feels dry, and I’m regretting not taking Mark’s offer to have a water bottle at our seat. Before speaking, I turn to Natalie hoping for a last look of reassurance to push me through. But she doesn’t look up, her eyes glued to the floor. Let’s get this over with.
My voice cracks as I speak into the microphone, “Hi. My name’s Kristen.”
I guess people already know that.
I clear my throat and continue.
“And I’m the baby of the family.”
I raise my eyes from the podium and I’m shocked at the number of people in attendance. I scan through the crowded rows, looking for a familiar face. My eyes land on our old neighbors from Pennsylvania. Their smiles bring me strength and I continue to move onward with my prepared speech.
“I have selected a reading from the bible that’s brought me comfort during this week, and I want to read it to you all today.”
A presence comes over me and I begin to read Psalms 34. With every additional word, my voice grows calmer and louder. I know he is with me right now; he is with us all.
Natalie
Kristen sounds poised and graceful. As I stand next to her, listening to each word, I’m proud of her strength. Her voice sounds more in control with each additional word spoken of the verse she selected to read. I hope I sound this strong. My sight never leaves the floor, so I didn’t notice when Kristen finishes and steps beside me. The silence in the room brings me to the realization that I’m now supposed to step up to the podium.
I guess it’s my turn.
I see the piece of paper with my designated reading sitting on the podium just like Thomas promised it would be.
I try to clear my throat, but it turns into a cough. Off to a great start, Natalie.
“I have a poem I wanted to share with everyone today.” I still haven’t had the ability to look up, but I begin to read my piece.
“It's never the right time to say goodbye.”
My nerves are overpowering my words and I have to take a break. Kristen comes over and holds my hand. Her support helps me keep going.
“We will miss you, Dad, and here is why. You taught us so much: to show no fear, to always have fun, and live our life sincerely. You were always so able, so caring, so strong. In your childrens’ eyes you could do no wrong. You would always listen, and you never pried. You were the arms around us when we cried.”
Each word adds additional weight to my shoulders, making me slouch even more than before.
“You never looked for praises, and you were never one to boast. You were always there for th
ose you loved the most. We hope you can hear us so we can let you know that you were, and will forever be…”
The pause is long, but needed.
“our superhero.”
Now my eyes are completely full of tears and my vision is fuzzy. I can’t make out the words anymore and panic is rushing from my head to my fingers holding the paper. The poem is blurry and the paper is shaking.
I turn to Kristen and whisper “I can’t read it anymore. I can’t see the words.”
She squeezes my hand and whispers back. “You can do this.”
She’s right. I can do this and I have to do this. I continue to blink hard in attempts to refocus my vision.
“So yes, today we are full of sorrow.”
That’s an understatement.
“But we will smile a little more with each tomorrow.”
Will we though?
“So please, Dad, go be at rest and know--to us, you were always the best.”
Thomas
I stand up from my seat and walk to the center of the chapel. I need to be stable and steady; lighten the mood and keep the morning focused around the happiness Dad brought into our lives. My hands are sweating from nerves and I’m terrified I’m going to puke again.
I look up and let out a loud “Oofda.”
I hear people in the room let out a laugh as we all remember my Dad’s famous line. The mood in the room does lighten and I know I need to continue to relieve the tension. Dad would not want everyone crying today.
“This is going to be pretty tough but at least it’s a ‘top down day,’ as my dad would say. As I sat with my sisters to write this we couldn’t help but hear a couple of my dad’s sayings, like this one: Be bright, be brief, be gone. I can’t make any promises that I will be able to follow this one Dad because I don’t know how to be brief when I’m talking about you.”
I barely need my notes anymore. I decide right now I’m going to speak from my heart and let it all out.
Top Down Day Page 19
