Dad 3 - The Aftermath

After my dad’s passing, I was eligible for bereavement leave for a few days. The idea of not needing to wake up in the wee hours of the morning was wonderful. Unfortunately, because my body clock was set to do so, I would wake up anyway.

On Tuesday, I would need to take my mom to a doctor’s appointment. Though she was doing better than she had been the weeks prior, I was still not used to her being frail. My dad had been frail for a few years before his death and I became accustomed to him in that state. But my mom has always seemed to be strong and steady. In retrospect, she probably wasn’t as strong as I perceived her to be in recent years, but it’s why assisting her now, with her walker, is still an adjustment for me. When you’re in your upper 80s, it’s to be expected.

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One thing that we needed to sort out sooner rather than later was what we were going to do to commemorate my father’s passing. My mom had pivoted a bit on this. Prior to his death, she was thinking about some sort of celebration of life at a later date and likely not in a church. Though my dad grew up Presbyterian, in his adult life he tended to avoid church like he did medical appointments. But now that he had passed, my mom was rethinking the whole thing and was now saying she wanted a proper funeral in a church. Logistically, this was a tough ask. I only had a few days remaining in my time in the US and the obligations awaiting me in Mogadishu and Nairobi meant that extending my time in Idaho was prohibitive. They could carry on without me, but my mom said that was not an option. At this point I suggested we look into seeing if her Methodist church would welcome the idea of us inserting some sort of short memorial into their normal service the coming Sunday. My mother had played the piano at the church for several decades and I knew that her congregation missed her very much during the months that she had been away for health reasons (and caring for my dad). If my mom felt that would be a good compromise, we would check with the church and begin setting it up.

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In the end, that’s what we did. I volunteered to draft the obituary and get it published ASAP such that people could be informed about the service in a timely manner. It’s a bit unorthodox to do it this way, but given all of our constraints, it worked out pretty well. My mom said that she would play a couple of songs (as well as practice in the days prior) and, given that it was my idea and that I drafted the obit, I was volunteered to also say a few words at the service.

Mom working her magic on the piano

I wasn’t sure how the church would feel about us invading their service, but all indication was that they were more than happy to have my mom back, even if it was for just the day. It may well have been the last time she would ever play at the church, or for any church. Also, I would think it was nice to have a temporary injection of a hundred or so extra people in a congregation that has steadily dwindled over the past several years.

My sister who has a house in Twin Falls offered to host a gathering after the service. It was a very nice evening though cut short given that I needed to escort my mom the two hours back to Boise. I had been worried about how she would hold up given all of the stress and emotion of the long day. But she did amazingly well and, when we pulled up in front of her care home, commented that she felt the drive was too short and would have enjoyed continuing our chat a bit longer.

I, on the other hand, was exhausted. I think the accumulation of all the care giving, the work of preparing the house for sale, the emotions, the early mornings, etc. had sucked me dry. I needed a break.