The dreaded details

We started to discuss what my Dad would want us to do as far as "arrangements" pretty early on.  I had heard him say over the course of my life on many occasions that he wanted to be cremated.  I am not a fan of cremation.  As if you could be a fan, but anyway... I really wouldn't choose this for myself but wanted so much to do what my Dad wanted.  My Mom swore she could never remember him saying that.  I think she was not in the place to make a decision.

We contacted the funeral home to set up an appointment and during the time between his death and our appointments, we discussed the details ad nauseum.    I made it clear that it was really my Mom's choice.  He was her partner and while I felt strongly about cremation, I wanted her to make the final decision.  I think she was too grief stricken to really give any of it much thought for much time. 

We met with the funeral home two days after my Dad died.  We had many discussions about what we wanted, what we needed and what would really happen.  We knew that this was our opportunity to honor my Dad and his place in our lives.  I had no idea how hard it would be to feel like we were doing that.

There are so many choices to make at this time and they all seem so important.  Are they?  Probably not but boy can it be easy to get caught up.  It's almost like planning a wedding but not as exciting or joyous.  To say the least!! 

We were lucky to have my Dad's brother and his wife with us.  Uncle Ken and Aunt Cheryl had been with us from Saturday night.  Offering to help but insisting they didn't want to step on our toes.  There was surely no toe stepping going on.  We all needed help and we needed the two of them specifically.  My Dad's family is not close.  My Mom's family was his.  It was nice to see, in his death, he would be honored by his blood. 

After we met with the funeral home we went right over to the church to meet with the priest who would be performing(?) the funeral service.  This meeting was less emotional but we were still as adamant about our desires for the service.  We just had to get it right.

When we got into the car to leave the church, I felt relieved. As if on cue my brother said, "Well, we got through it".   I can tell you I sure didn't think we would.  But... what's the option??