Funerals

Life with my Mom was not exactly easy.  In fact, to describe her is too complicated for me to untangle.

Her funeral was, well, in essence the same as a funeral we attended for a friend’s step dad. Both funerals were for Christians. Both were at a church. Both were filled with grief and sorrow for the loss as well as hope for being together in Heaven one day.

Both situations were tragic and sudden losses. Except, Mom’s funeral was because she decided she couldn’t do life anymore. She made that choice. The worst part is that I suspect she believed she wasn’t loved. So there was a “normal” amount of grief that is part of death. Then there was this dark, murky layer of grief because it was a choice.

So many things happened all at the same time. I wanted to scream, “Why!? Why did you do this?” I wanted everyone to believe that she was a “good” Christian while also convincing everyone that it wasn’t their fault that she made this choice. Yet, for the sake of my kids I wasn’t able to say the full truth out loud. They don’t need to know yet.  Talk about complicated.

A tragically beautiful part of a funeral is the laughter from good memories. There was very little laughter at my Mom’s funeral. We tried to honor her memory. We tried to make a place for grieving. We tried to love on the family and friends. I think we accomplished those goals, overall. Realistically, she made it easy on us. She had purchased her own cremation plan and had it set up at the local funeral home. She had cancelled all her bills and closed accounts. She had done her best to neatly disappear. We did our best to have a funeral in remembrance of her.

Mom had warned us. We had even intervened to a certain extent. Could any of us have extended Mom’s life? Yeah, probably. But only if we had provided for her the way she wanted. The reality is, suicide wasn’t a new threat from my mother. I practically forced her therapist in 2015 to tell me something/anything that would help us know how to help her. According to her journals, it is highly probably she would have done the exact same thing at my house. Maybe even in my woods or on my road. All funerals are inevitable. But the extra layer of her choice, well, that adds an additional grief dimension.

Psalm 6:2-3 “Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing; heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled. My soul also is greatly troubled. But you, O Lord-how long?”