With the proceedings completed,
What remained was recollecting:
1, A Vigil
Where the mourners aligned themselves to weep or stare
Into the casket, amazed by the skills of the mortician,
“She looks at peace,” they said to us, calmly brushing her cool
Head before walking back to their seat, thinking about when they
Last saw our mom alive, something her
Friend Rhonda remembered vividly,
Barley able to walk from the diabetic neuropathy, Rhonda worked her way
Over to the couch where my sister and I sat, leaning heavy on her right
Crutch to outstretch her left hand:
“If I close my eyes, I can still see Kitty thumbing the tab of her Coke can at my dining table.
We were going back and forth about our New Years plans. She was a good woman, your mother, and a great friend to me. She will be missed by so many. I’m sorry.”
She was sweating and had swollen eyes, we smiled and
Nodded and squeezed her hand back, we said thank you and
Took the first opportunity to run downstairs,
Sarah McLachlan’s version of “In the Arms Of An Angel” played as
Theme music to the eulogies. One given by our dad, who reminded
Everyone that our mom worked nights at the hospital. He said by his
Count, she had probably held over 10,000 babies before she was sick,
10,002 if you included my sister and me. The thought lingered,
The silence persisted, and the song played again,
Now the background to a tribute given by our mother’s parents, who remembered
Raising a daughter that bought a motorcycle and decided to visit
Them on it as often as she could, no matter how much they disapproved, she was
A rebel but they loved her, they said they had six babies go to God
Before she came into the world, in the arms of an angel was the chorus of the song,
And they believed this is where their daughter was now,
In the parlor basement I overheard these snippets in between
The fizzy sounds of Coca-Cola being poured into my cup,
2, A Funeral
Everyone together in mass, listening to
“On Eagle’s Wings,” sung by the choir,
Everyone smelling the Holy Smoke being wafted
By the priest as he approaches the casket, now
Positioned below the altar and colored by the
Dappled light of the sun piercing through
The stained glass,
In sermon he says to double-down on worship, and rejoice
That Kathryn will soon be in the halls of Heaven, a sorrowful
Blessing, a product of the paschal mystery,
“It was her time,” he said,
Everyone prayed the Apostles’ Creed and the priest
Asked for us to focus on the part about ascendance
And everlasting life, how we will see her again when
It’s “our” time,
I focused on the part about descending into hell and
A three-day resurrection, I wondered if there was
Any way my mom could be stuck in purgatory,
Leaving me without her in that other world,
With my family and I in the center pews, we were
Surrounded by stares, everyone consoling from their
Various positions in the church, friends I played
Recess football with were now looking up at their
Parents crying for us,
Instead of meeting their eyes, I gazed straightaway at
The six-foot crucifix looming above my mother,
Sullen and skinny, pale and bleeding,
I wondered if it had ever fallen from its place,
And if so, whose job is it to remount our savior?
As the pallbearers lifted mom from below the
Altar and headed toward the door, my dad noticed
Me crying and said to not wipe the snot on my sleeve,
So I sniffed it up and proceed to leave with the congregation.
3, A Burial
In a five-car procession, all my family drove
From our house to the cemetery after a breakfast
Of sliced and sugared grapefruit, in memoriam
Of her favorite way to start the morning,
Her casket was already on the lowering device
When we arrived, the wind was strong, pulling
The grass in between the headstones from left
To right,
I decided to wander around the
Other plots, spelling out the names
Of the dead and feeling in awe about
The fact that I’m standing over someone
That was buried in the 1910s,
I started to hear the bagpipes play “Amazing Grace”
When over my left shoulder I noticed my dad calling me
To throw a fistful of dirt as the grinding gears brought her
Casket down.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 1:28 AM UTC
With the proceedings completed,
What remained was recollecting:
1, A Vigil
Where the mourners aligned themselves to weep or stare
Into the casket, amazed by the skills of the mortician,
“She looks at peace,” they said to us, calmly brushing her cool
Head before walking back to their seat, thinking about when they
Last saw our mom alive, something her
Friend Rhonda remembered vividly,
Barley able to walk from the diabetic neuropathy, Rhonda worked her way
Over to the couch where my sister and I sat, leaning heavy on her right
Crutch to outstretch her left hand:
“If I close my eyes, I can still see Kitty thumbing the tab of her Coke can at my dining table.
We were going back and forth about our New Years plans. She was a good woman, your mother, and a great friend to me. She will be missed by so many. I’m sorry.”
She was sweating and had swollen eyes, we smiled and
Nodded and squeezed her hand back, we said thank you and
Took the first opportunity to run downstairs,
Sarah McLachlan’s version of “In the Arms Of An Angel” played as
Theme music to the eulogies. One given by our dad, who reminded
Everyone that our mom worked nights at the hospital. He said by his
Count, she had probably held over 10,000 babies before she was sick,
10,002 if you included my sister and me. The thought lingered,
The silence persisted, and the song played again,
Now the background to a tribute given by our mother’s parents, who remembered
Raising a daughter that bought a motorcycle and decided to visit
Them on it as often as she could, no matter how much they disapproved, she was
A rebel but they loved her, they said they had six babies go to God
Before she came into the world, in the arms of an angel was the chorus of the song,
And they believed this is where their daughter was now,
In the parlor basement I overheard these snippets in between
The fizzy sounds of Coca-Cola being poured into my cup,
2, A Funeral
Everyone together in mass, listening to
“On Eagle’s Wings,” sung by the choir,
Everyone smelling the Holy Smoke being wafted
By the priest as he approaches the casket, now
Positioned below the altar and colored by the
Dappled light of the sun piercing through
The stained glass,
In sermon he says to double-down on worship, and rejoice
That Kathryn will soon be in the halls of Heaven, a sorrowful
Blessing, a product of the paschal mystery,
“It was her time,” he said,
Everyone prayed the Apostles’ Creed and the priest
Asked for us to focus on the part about ascendance
And everlasting life, how we will see her again when
It’s “our” time,
I focused on the part about descending into hell and
A three-day resurrection, I wondered if there was
Any way my mom could be stuck in purgatory,
Leaving me without her in that other world,
With my family and I in the center pews, we were
Surrounded by stares, everyone consoling from their
Various positions in the church, friends I played
Recess football with were now looking up at their
Parents crying for us,
Instead of meeting their eyes, I gazed straightaway at
The six-foot crucifix looming above my mother,
Sullen and skinny, pale and bleeding,
I wondered if it had ever fallen from its place,
And if so, whose job is it to remount our savior?
As the pallbearers lifted mom from below the
Altar and headed toward the door, my dad noticed
Me crying and said to not wipe the snot on my sleeve,
So I sniffed it up and proceed to leave with the congregation.
3, A Burial
In a five-car procession, all my family drove
From our house to the cemetery after a breakfast
Of sliced and sugared grapefruit, in memoriam
Of her favorite way to start the morning,
Her casket was already on the lowering device
When we arrived, the wind was strong, pulling
The grass in between the headstones from left
To right,
I decided to wander around the
Other plots, spelling out the names
Of the dead and feeling in awe about
The fact that I’m standing over someone
That was buried in the 1910s,
I started to hear the bagpipes play “Amazing Grace”
When over my left shoulder I noticed my dad calling me
To throw a fistful of dirt as the grinding gears brought her
Casket down.
