We had the funeral for my mom today at 2pm, and the internment of ashes at 11am. It couldn't have been a more beautiful day for November-about 8 degrees celsius and not a cloud in the sky. The afternoon sun shone through the south and west facing windows so much that I almost felt blinded sitting there in the front pew (as compared to where I usually sit, in the back-a presbyterian custom!). The church itself was packed, and although a number of my friends were not able to get away from their classes, as I had once predicted with my mom, my flute and piano teachers, my former flute teacher, several of my flute friends, a few of my high school friend's parents', and a few of my high school friends were there. My mom's brother came, as well as two of her cousins (one older, one younger), plus my dad's brother and my mom's aunt and uncle. A number of my mom's tai chi friends came in tai chi shirts, which was a wonderful tribute. In fact, we cremated my mom in a tai chi shirt and sweat pants (ones she had picked out specially because they were too worn out to be useful to anyone else-how typical of my mom and her practicality). As my mom had wanted and had planned, the service was less about mourning, and more about celebration of the life that God gives us and what my mom gave to all of us. Because the internment was earlier in the morning with just a few close friends and family there-along with a piper (bag pipes) as my mom had wanted-we had a picture of her before the cancer destroyed her and her prayer shawl at the front. Our minister was also able to locate in the box of prayer shawls waiting to be given away three that my mom had made and so those were placed at the front as well. It was an interesting way-the service did start on a more somber note, but ended on that celebretory theme. She had picked a song that ALWAYS makes me want to cry for the beginning called "Comfort, comfort" so that one did get me going and I hated feeling slightly on display. At the same time though, I felt like I was almost being on display because I'm doing pretty okay. Someone once said that the first month you live on adrenaline, that it's the second month that really hits you. Well, perhaps that's so, or perhaps it's because everything still feels so unreal to me. Like someone still needs to shake me awake. I guess I just take longer in the shock/denial phase of grief than many people. It was a beautiful service though. The hardest thing was looking at the picture of my mom because she was so healthy and vibrant. It's a lot easier to be less upset with my memories of her the past few weeks, and of seeing her at the funeral home. Seeing her in the hospital after she had died was very, very, very strange, because my sister hadn't been able to close her eyes or mouth...

It has been a very strange four days...but at the same time, I felt very in touch with my mom today. She's always been a very private person, and that included her faith. However, having been a choir director and loving to sing and play the piano, she expressed her faith through music. Not as easy for a kid to pick up on though-she never once prayed with me or even said grace at the dinner table. That was always my dad's department. So hearing the bible verses and songs that she had picked was a new experience. I knew she always liked the King James version of the bible, and so the very first bible passage was Psalm 23 in the King James version. Somehow, the NIV or NRSV just don't capture the 23rd psalm quite the same way as King James. Besides psalm 23, she requested psalm 121, a passage from John that talks about the Father's house having many rooms (and since I can't find the bulletin, I'm relying on my memory) and Revelations 7:13-17.

I haven't been to very many funerals, but I was amazed at the sheer beauty of this. If only it hadn't been for my mom.