A Memorial

Saturday, I went to a memorial service with my dad. The cemetery where my mom, and brother, are buried holds a service before Easter and before Christmas. I feel bad for the Jewish or Hebrew families; I hope they get their own services. I think what I sat through was overly Christian and not even close to non-denominational, which was what I was expecting.

Her name is on the crypt now; it's a good & bad thing. It's good to have it done but its also that confirming visual that you, or at least I, don't want to see. We sat by her for the service and I kept envisioning her sitting next to me; they served coffee, donuts & cookies but apparently they used to serve sandwiches so I could hear her in my head saying "crappy donuts, where are the sandwiches? They used to have this (insert sandwich description here) but oh well, I guess just eat this donut" -said with this scowl on her face that was almost comical but mostly annoying. I spent most of the service trying to not look at her name; it just made me want to cry more than I already was.

There was a female minister that spoke, very heart-felt words, and clearly that was the purpose of her sermon. She spoke about her own grieving process for her daughter and her 20-year old grandson. She said the words that she says to get through it, and wanted us to repeat them although I couldn't do it through my tears. She said "say their name - if I had know our time together was coming to an end and I would never hear your voice again, I would have cherished your voice more....if I had known that was our last hug, I would have held on tighter. " it was very hard to hear those words; it was if she was speaking directly to me. When I left my mom's hospital room that night, I thought I would see her in the morning. I thought I would hear her voice, see her face and crazy hair, hear her tell me she loved me. But I was wrong. And I wish I had known because I would have stayed a little longer, I would have been more patient and I would have been....I don't know, more attentive and maybe I would have acted more concerned instead of leaving because it was snowing and I didn't want to drive home in it, get home too late to put my daughter in bed. How many nights between then and now have I done that? Gone home to my family, snuggled with my daughter, looked at her as she slept peacefully in my arms. I would give one of those back in exchange for one more night with my mom. I only had one last night with my mom, being able to have a conversation. I wish I knew then what I know now.