The Funeral... in Understanding the Unthinkable

…and the aftermath. Emily, our foster daughter, spoke of our unconditional love for Nick, who was always misbehaving, and for her. Pastor delivered a short message on Habakkuk, then we blasted the auditorium with David Crowder’s version of

(listen to it if you haven’t already…its great). I told the band to make it loud enough to hear in Heaven and they delivered. Prayer followed, and then the pall bearers escorted the coffin out to .

The links I posted to those songs are embedded in my soul.

I don’t know why, but I ended up by myself (people were close by, but giving me space), standing behind the hearse as they loaded his coffin in. The next thing I knew I raised both arms and stood in silence until the hearse pulled away.

I then had to turn and speak to people. So many of his friends came up to me, and memories came flooding back…Mike, his high school buddy, and Nick’s old friend Matt.

“Do you remember me, Mrs. K? You taught me how to file my taxes.”
“Do you remember me, Mrs. K? You found a needle and thread so I didn’t go to prom with a torn sleeve.”
Do you remember me? Yes, my beautiful children, I remember each of you, your hopeful faces when I told you how absolutely wonderful you are and look, all these years later, it is still true.

“What can I do for you? I just want to help you.”
There’s only one thing you can do for me, Baby, and nobody else can do it. I want you to live good, long, healthy, happy lives and if you can do that, you will have more than helped me because I cannot bear to lose one more of you. So you promise me that and we got a deal.
“I promise, Mrs. K, I promise.”
And, later, “I heard what you said to my son. Thank you for that. I’m so sorry. We loved Nick.”

I know. I know. How could someone who was so loved be gone so soon? Yes, tell the Matts and the Bretts and the Ryans and the Jasons, tell them all…live, for all you are worth, live fully, because nobody has a guarantee of waking up tomorrow morning. We need to live extra large now that Nick is gone, because now we live for him, too.

Eldest and I got off to a corner to ourselves at one point and talked about the funeral. He said a lot of people were touched by the eulogy. I told him I had to deliver it powerfully, because I knew that this would probably be the last time I saw a lot of his friends and I needed to get that message of forgiveness and love to them.

“Mom, I think his drug dealer was there.” (At this point, we still all assumed he’d died of drug use)
The kid in the checked shirt?
“Yes, he seemed so devastated. More than any of Nick’s other friends and I don’t know who that guy is.”
I tried to comfort him on the way out, but Nick’s casket was going and he wouldn’t lift his head, so I put my arm around his slumped shoulders and told him he was forgiven.
I don’t know why I know he was the dealer, but it’s interesting that my eldest picked up the same vibe.

Foster daughter and Nick’s girl bar tended and cleaned the kitchen, put away food, etc., which was a huge help. I was so tired, it took me until 3 am to finally fall asleep. I got up two hours later to use the bathroom, got as far as the door and my back seized. My husband helped me take a few steps and it let go, so I took a couple of aspirin and went back to bed.

I tried to tackle just one thing at a time but everyone kept coming at me, asking questions. My stepmother asked me if I’d be ready for a visit in mid-May. I wrote her back and told her I didn’t know how I’d be in mid-May, that my brain was easily confused, and I felt overwhelmed. We agreed on a visit in September.

That Thursday was tough, as we’d been told the cremation would be that day. My husband said he was at work and suddenly felt a complete void, as if Nick had left the earth. I asked him if it happened around 3. He said yes. I told him I’d felt it, too. We picked up the ashes on Friday.

My husband returned to work and the distraction seemed to help him adjust, not that he does not grieve, but he was able to laugh again. I was there at the house, alone, working on sorting Nick’s belongings, writing thank you cards (each one opened the wound again), cleaning up flower arrangements, etc. I needed time to sort and process and weep.

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Last updated September 06, 2015