Closure, Ripples, and Closure
Category: Life
The morning after Darrel's death, Kira came down with with me to funeral
home to sit with him. There was paperwork and other legal steps that needed
to be completed before he was cremated, and I didn't want him left alone, or
stuck in some dark refrigeration unit. Though I was quite surprised that Kira
wanted to join me with her brother in one of the waiting rooms, the company was
appreciated regardless. It was a sad, yet quiet and peaceful morning waiting
there. Sitting by his side, he looked as though he was "just resting" his
eyes, not sleeping, or as the case was, in the deep slumber you never wake
from.
After the red tape was finished and filed, the four of us remaining, along
with my father, loaded into the van to follow the hearse to the crematorium in
Milton. For over an hour, I followed it down back roads, with the fall leaves
slowly changing colour, busy city streets, and even the 401. It was the first,
and hopefully the only time I'll have to tail a hearse around Southern Ontario
for any reason.
Once we arrived, my father and I helped carry his casket into the
building. It felt very good to give his body one last Air Lift, even if it was
only for a few steps. We placed one of his favourite stuffed animals with him
in the casket, and said our good-byes one final time. I feel that doing this
helped provide closure for all of us in that room. It was the least we could
do for Darrel, who gave so much to all who knew him. I've found out since then
that accompanying the body to the crematorium isn't usually done, but our
funeral director didn't seem to have any reservations about it, and it was what
we wanted to do regardless.
By the time we returned home that afternoon, word of Darrel's passing had
already began to spread around town. Although we had as a family had just done
the things to allow ourselves to come to terms with the events of the previous
24 hours, for many others this was just beginning. Like ripples on the water
after a huge splash, Darrel's death also created an aftershock for many more
distant family, friends, and people he would never have even met. Cards,
flowers, endless calls (fortunately we have Call Answer and Call Display), and
people dropping off assorted foods. All this was appreciated, common practice,
and understandable, but Rebecca and I, along with girls, had just achieved a
small personal sense of the finality to it all, and this ripple effect served
to constantly bring it bubbling to the surface again. It had only been a few
days, but the continual flood of condolences were rubbing salt into an open
wound. On the flip side, I would probably have been more shocked and annoyed
if there had been a more limited, or no response what so ever from those in the
community.
On Wednesday night, Rebecca and I took many of Darrel's favourite things
down to the funeral home. His GameBoy, bike, clothes, toys, the infamous
bottle of Flintstones, the "nurse whacker", his blanket, photo albums, and
countless other things were placed around to those who came a better idea of
who Darrel was, and what he cared about. A memorial slideshow was also set up
in one room, which was very moving to watch, even for those of us who closely
shared all those memories with him. It was still a funeral home, but it seemed
less so, with many of Darrels' personal belongings here, there, and everywhere.
We had been seriously been dreading the visitations scheduled for the
Thursday afternoon and evening. What would people say? What would we say?
Who would come that we weren't expecting? Who wouldn't come that we felt
should be there? How would the girls react and cope to all that the days
activities would present? The questions were endless beforehand, but they were
for the most part misplaced.
The afternoon session was slow, which was expected. There was a greater
chance to talk to those who came before the next mini rush came through. I've
always hated wakes where you feel like cattle being pushed through the gates,
or something rushed down an assembly line. Being able to spend some time with
almost everybody seemed to lighten the atmosphere of the room. That night,
things were quite a bit busier, but there were still opportunites to have brief
time-outs to take a breather, or socialize a bit. Although the slideshow was
quite well viewed, and many were moved to see his bike near the head table,
the biggest attention grabber was having Darrel's dog "Lady" there throughout
the day. The funeral director had no problem with this, and it seemed only
fitting that the dog was present. Quite often she would sit up front on the
blanket that was always on Darrels' bed as family and friends passed by the urn
holding Darrel's remains. Whether the dog understood any of the significance
of what it was doing, we'll never know, but she did appear to trying to deal
with the loss like the rest of us.
The funeral on Friday unfolded much like we had hoped for. It was about
Darrel, about his good times, and his struggles over the last two years. There
were several religous aspects to the service, but they only added to the
ceremony, not set the tone, or try to over power it. For many in the room, it
was the first time they had heard about some of the jokes and pranks Darrel
enjoyed to play. How everything that went wrong was always not his fault (and
I usually got the blame for it). If they had never actually met Darrel in
person, many walked aways afterwards feeling that in someway they had. Closure
had now come for everyone. The hard part of trying to return to a new daily
routine without Darrel in them will be a long one, but try to begin it, we
must. It was the perfect send off for Darrel, which was the last and only gift
we as parents could do for our incredible and unforgettable son. He may have
only been seven, but the way he handled all that was sent his way, he trully
went out a Man.
Category: Life
The morning after Darrel's death, Kira came down with with me to funeral
home to sit with him. There was paperwork and other legal steps that needed
to be completed before he was cremated, and I didn't want him left alone, or
stuck in some dark refrigeration unit. Though I was quite surprised that Kira
wanted to join me with her brother in one of the waiting rooms, the company was
appreciated regardless. It was a sad, yet quiet and peaceful morning waiting
there. Sitting by his side, he looked as though he was "just resting" his
eyes, not sleeping, or as the case was, in the deep slumber you never wake
from.
After the red tape was finished and filed, the four of us remaining, along
with my father, loaded into the van to follow the hearse to the crematorium in
Milton. For over an hour, I followed it down back roads, with the fall leaves
slowly changing colour, busy city streets, and even the 401. It was the first,
and hopefully the only time I'll have to tail a hearse around Southern Ontario
for any reason.
Once we arrived, my father and I helped carry his casket into the
building. It felt very good to give his body one last Air Lift, even if it was
only for a few steps. We placed one of his favourite stuffed animals with him
in the casket, and said our good-byes one final time. I feel that doing this
helped provide closure for all of us in that room. It was the least we could
do for Darrel, who gave so much to all who knew him. I've found out since then
that accompanying the body to the crematorium isn't usually done, but our
funeral director didn't seem to have any reservations about it, and it was what
we wanted to do regardless.
By the time we returned home that afternoon, word of Darrel's passing had
already began to spread around town. Although we had as a family had just done
the things to allow ourselves to come to terms with the events of the previous
24 hours, for many others this was just beginning. Like ripples on the water
after a huge splash, Darrel's death also created an aftershock for many more
distant family, friends, and people he would never have even met. Cards,
flowers, endless calls (fortunately we have Call Answer and Call Display), and
people dropping off assorted foods. All this was appreciated, common practice,
and understandable, but Rebecca and I, along with girls, had just achieved a
small personal sense of the finality to it all, and this ripple effect served
to constantly bring it bubbling to the surface again. It had only been a few
days, but the continual flood of condolences were rubbing salt into an open
wound. On the flip side, I would probably have been more shocked and annoyed
if there had been a more limited, or no response what so ever from those in the
community.
On Wednesday night, Rebecca and I took many of Darrel's favourite things
down to the funeral home. His GameBoy, bike, clothes, toys, the infamous
bottle of Flintstones, the "nurse whacker", his blanket, photo albums, and
countless other things were placed around to those who came a better idea of
who Darrel was, and what he cared about. A memorial slideshow was also set up
in one room, which was very moving to watch, even for those of us who closely
shared all those memories with him. It was still a funeral home, but it seemed
less so, with many of Darrels' personal belongings here, there, and everywhere.
We had been seriously been dreading the visitations scheduled for the
Thursday afternoon and evening. What would people say? What would we say?
Who would come that we weren't expecting? Who wouldn't come that we felt
should be there? How would the girls react and cope to all that the days
activities would present? The questions were endless beforehand, but they were
for the most part misplaced.
The afternoon session was slow, which was expected. There was a greater
chance to talk to those who came before the next mini rush came through. I've
always hated wakes where you feel like cattle being pushed through the gates,
or something rushed down an assembly line. Being able to spend some time with
almost everybody seemed to lighten the atmosphere of the room. That night,
things were quite a bit busier, but there were still opportunites to have brief
time-outs to take a breather, or socialize a bit. Although the slideshow was
quite well viewed, and many were moved to see his bike near the head table,
the biggest attention grabber was having Darrel's dog "Lady" there throughout
the day. The funeral director had no problem with this, and it seemed only
fitting that the dog was present. Quite often she would sit up front on the
blanket that was always on Darrels' bed as family and friends passed by the urn
holding Darrel's remains. Whether the dog understood any of the significance
of what it was doing, we'll never know, but she did appear to trying to deal
with the loss like the rest of us.
The funeral on Friday unfolded much like we had hoped for. It was about
Darrel, about his good times, and his struggles over the last two years. There
were several religous aspects to the service, but they only added to the
ceremony, not set the tone, or try to over power it. For many in the room, it
was the first time they had heard about some of the jokes and pranks Darrel
enjoyed to play. How everything that went wrong was always not his fault (and
I usually got the blame for it). If they had never actually met Darrel in
person, many walked aways afterwards feeling that in someway they had. Closure
had now come for everyone. The hard part of trying to return to a new daily
routine without Darrel in them will be a long one, but try to begin it, we
must. It was the perfect send off for Darrel, which was the last and only gift
we as parents could do for our incredible and unforgettable son. He may have
only been seven, but the way he handled all that was sent his way, he trully
went out a Man.
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