Laying A Generation to Rest

Funerals are events of odd juxtaposition. Small children play games in the foyer in hushed tones, their reserve an assent to the gravity of the situation as they naively unaware are fully engaged in playing and becoming older. Tears are shed as we mourn the passing of a loved grandparent, and yet laughter lights the eyes as we cannot be solely occupied by grief. I think an individuals approach to a funeral depends on their connection to the departed, of which there are two dimensions. Each life is an arc, it begins at birth and ends at death. Our lives connect with others at different points on the arc of our life line, my grandmother came before me and at the height of my arc in the middle of my life her's ends. Depending on where you are on that arc, most particularly how close you are to the end, your perspective at a funeral changes. Likewise your personal relationship, usually with family this is a blood connection, a child and parent vs. a grandparent and a grandchild. These two aspects change our perspective on funerals; as my life reaches a point where I have lived long enough to see the aging of my fore bearers my time at funerals is one of reflection and remembrance.

My aunt Faye called me in the middle of the night on Thursday October 4th to let me know that Grandmother was in the hospital with severe abominable pain. The next morning they called to let me know she had passed away early in the morning. The funeral was to be the following weekend. On Friday October 12th after a frantic morning at work, we picked up Kiah from school and left for Boise at 2:30 in the afternoon. We pulled into Boise at my sister's house 8 hours later at 11:15 pm, she had left with her family earlier in the day for Logan. The plan was to awaken early the next morning and leave by 7 am to make the viewing at 12:30. I woke at 6:56 am to the sound of Sara's phone ringing as my brother Josh tried to wake us, he was going to ride down with us. We quickly showered and jumped into the car and were on the road by 7:30 am. We arrived in Logan at noon, and stopped by Roy and Emilie's to change.

We gathered at the Jensen funeral home, where a little over 3 months ago we had gathered for my grandfather's funeral. This time my family was with me, and I felt a greater sense of distraction with my children in attendance. I was distracted by Miles running all over the foyer and grabbing on my leg. Small children are always busy growing up, and they do this with great vigor whether its a funeral or church on Sunday. I recall years ago when I was serving a mission for my church being impatient at 19 with the small children in the congregation that were making noise and a fellow missionary wisely stating, just wait till you have your own. Now children are a part of the attachment of my life that I carry with me in all I do, and they change the perspective yet again.

I mostly stood back from the open casket and watched others. I watched John chatting with my grandmother's sister Elaine. I watched many who were connected to my grandmother pass by the casket, conversing with my Aunt Faye. I watched Doc Merrill as he chatted with Faye, cutely passing her an envelope and stating he hoped this helped (she's a vice president over Patient Care Services for St. Joseph's Hospitals) and then how he sat alone in the chairs, seeming to ponder how he was all alone, a subject I heard him mention to Faye. And I stood in the same line, next to Faye gazing at the empty shell that had been my Grandmother. How small she looked, and now how lifeless. And then I turned and walked away, till we had a family prayer that I offered, closed the casket and bore her to the cemetery.

Grandma always wanted just a grave side service, she didn't want a big to do. We convened to the Logan cemetery to lay her down beside her husband. I conducted the services. Faye gave a life sketch and my brother Jon a talk and the dedication of the grave, as a resting place until the resurrection. Several of the granddaughters, wives and great great children sang Abide With Me and Anne closed with a solo. While the ceremony went on and afterwards the children played, hide and seek among the tombstones, the fall leaves on the tree reminding me of the cycle of life. Here the youngest played among the dead and buried of those that had passed before them. Running over the bodies six feet below of the very people that had eked out an existence in cache valley and made a life, made a town, that the children now played in.

As we chatted and reminisced I was amazed by the family that was gathered as a result of Grandma's passing. Recently Thanksgivings have also become a gathering time, but this year more than any before we'll have gathered four times. Once for Grandpa's passing, once for a family reunion, now for Grandma's passing and this coming feast of thanksgiving. Another odd moment is that how after the internment of the deceased, the living assert their enduring vigor by gathering for food, the daily required accruement. We recomposed at a local restaurant for dinner. Again the children dominated the happenings, far out numbering the adults both in numbers and noise. No incidents of real report, just the happy cacophony of chaotic children. I had a chance to chat a bit with Elaine, my Grandmother's youngest sister. I had never really got to know her, and was a tad bit regretful to learn she'd owned the local skiing establishment when I was growing up. My entire teenage life, I could have been skiing had I only known of the nepotistic opportunity.

After a long day we gathered outside for a family photo with everyone and we parted and went our seperate ways. Jon and Anne and Jeni and Sean driving the round trip in the same day home. Robyn, Sara, myself and Faye returned to our local habitats in Logan. Sam and Kiah went shopping with Robyn at the big Cache Valley Mall and Stac and I went back to spend some time with Roy and Emily.



Bright and early, actually still very dark, I woke at 4:45 am (MST) and woke the family at 5. We were loaded in the car and on the road by 5:30 am. Roy and Emilie woke briefly to say goodbyes, and we began our long 12 hour journey home. We stopped in Boise along the way to drop off Josh and to pick up our forgotten items from when we'd stayed there just a day before. We drove on, and at Oregon (a state I despise for their 65 mph speed limits and the fact you can't pump your own gas) I lay down for a nap while Stac drove. Taking over when we got back into Washington we drove on through the beautiful blue sky and the shining sun. While we drove I thought a lot about funerals and I lay down a couple of ground rules to Stac regarding my own. First I want to be buried in the mountains somewhere, preferably the Cascades. Second, I don't want a tombstone, I want a huge granite rock that can be cut on one side, polished and then engraved. Lastly I'd consider it a bonus if everyone had to hike to get to my grave site.

Finally at 5:30 pm on Sunday we arrived back home. 51 hours after we began, 1586 miles later and 24 of that in the car. But my Grandma was laid to rest in peace, and for her and my shared posterities sake, it was worth it.

Set on www.flickr.com