The hall of the dimly lit funeral home resembled the foyer of a grand manor. Ceilings were vaulted. Massive beveled, leaded glass windows reflected the glow of lantern sconces. A walnut roccocco style library table was home to an elegant floral centerpiece flanked by 2 cherub topped urns. An elderly gentleman stood militarily beside the table , he greeted us in a somber , hushed tone and led us to the visitation room. Muffled sobbing could be heard and I experienced a panic, apprehension and anxiety that I had never felt...not even when my father passed. My breathing shallowed, it's not too late, maybe I could excuse myself. If I can just make it to the exit I could be in my car and drive...anywhere...it wouldn't matter...I could be anywhere...but here. It's too late, I see her Mom.
It seemed unreal, a nightmare that would eventually end when I woke up. I entered the room and saw neighbors and friends. Each came closer, hugged me and commented how terrible it must be for her Mom. Each confessed they didn't know what to say. I felt the same sentiment. I glanced at her Mom surrounded by relatives in various stages of grief. Some still in shock, simply present, no more, no less. Others crying uncontrollably and verbalizing disbelief. A few fought back tears to be strong for the family and support her Mom emotionally but also steadying her when the grief continued to sap every measure of her already limited strength.
While waiting for an opportunity to speak with her Mom, I saw her . Eighteen years of age. Lying on a satin comforter in an ivory coffin, her favorite pillow beneath her head. She was dressed her powder blue gown, the one she wore to prom...a mere 6 months prior. Her hair still sun-kissed blonde, luxurient, a long tress caressing her cheek and following the line of her shoulder, resting in a gentle curl just beneath her elbow. I almost expected that at any minute she would open her eyes, and give me that mischievious smile, giggle and ask where's "the princess of purses?''... Referring, of course, to my own barely 18 year old ,fashionista, who had enjoyed many a gigglefest and shopping spree with her friend since kindergarten. Tea parties on the front porch, baking cookies and making a flour cloud mess, chalking hopscotch templates on the sidewalk, Chuckie Cheese birthday parties, cuddling together on Dad's recliner mesmerized by Disney Princess videos...It seemed like yesterday.
But yesterday was the day I heard that on her way to college classes, too hurried to don her seatbelt, and in an effort to avoid tardiness, she pulled out...entering the 6 lane highway into the path of a vehicle travelling 55mph. The other driver, ironically a student rushing to classes, too, forgetting to wear his seatbelt, unintentionally collided with the vehicle in his path. Miraculously, he was spared, suffered minor physical injuries, but devastating emotional injuries that may take a lifetime to heal.
I found my self, next in line to incompetently attempt to console my friend. She extended her hand toward me. She was pale, shaking, suffering a torturous, horrifically sad loss. I opened my mouth to speak and words would not come. We embraced and sobbed quietly. My throat felt a rock-hard lump, all I could choke out was a feeble, "I am so, so sorry". She hugged tighter and rested her head on my shoulder and said, "I know..I know". "Thank You for coming...she always considered your home as her 2nd home. We will all miss her terribly. Thank You, my friend". She kissed my cheek and I hers and she turned to greet another well wisher, accepted condolences and shared tears.
Walking toward my car I wondered where my words went...why could I not express to her words of comfort, something to soothe the impossible sorrow? Driving down the familiar street, I thought of something my grandmother had said on the subject of funerals. She warned , there are no words in existance that seem kind enough, loving enough. As far as she knew, no one had ever been able to say the perfect words or phrases that had the ability to erase the unrelenting pain of the loss of a loved one. The only words , she thought, that came close were, "I am so sorry, I love you, I am here for you". Her belief was that the true comfort ,compassion and caring came with physical presence. The touch of a hand, the embrace, listening patiently, crying together can comfort incredibly. The presence at the visitation and funeral are important, but the need does not stop there. All the "firsts" will be devastating. The 1st Christmas without her, the 1st vacation without her...the list goes on and on. Grandma explained that it is important to continue to be there and be thoughtful. Take over dinners and desserts, visit often or call often...be present in their lives. They've lost their loved one...don't compound their pain by losing you, just because you don't know the perfect words to say.
I will try to follow my grandmother's advice, I will thank God for all the blessings He has given. I will say a prayer every night for peace, comfort and healing for my friend's family because her daughter, sadly, has "gone" too soon.
