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two Facebook entries smooshed together
Jan. 26th, 2019 09:36 am1/25
The service was... well, it was. For me, Dad had pretty much died the day he started telling me stories about things we had done together as children; this was simply closure. Friends, and family I hadn't seen in decades, came to pay their respects; the Masons did a farewell service; I saw a few photos of him I'd never seen. Special mention to Glenn, the director of the funeral home, with whom I chatted briefly about old movies; thought of asking him if he'd ever seen The Loved One, but forebore.
Goodbye, Dad.
1/26
Funeral service last night; church service today. Probably the last time I'll ever be in the Potsdam Methodist church; interesting to look up at the ceiling and remember how the dome structure reminded me of the Enterprise, or how I once got a finger pinched in the door runner for the sliding doors that connect the coffee room and the main services area. Almost expected to see six-year-old me jumping down the steps, or running past the stained glass windows in the balcony.
At one point during the services, the minister (a woman, for the first time in my experience- progress) called for people to come up and offer personal remembrances. Originally, I hadn't planned to say anything- obviously not out of lack of love for my father, but simply because lack of sleep and kazillions of social encounters have been burning through my spoons, as I knew they would.
However, seeing my sister in tears up there unlocked something in my heart; while I wasn't able to find words nearly as eloquent as those with which Darin Bastedo eulogized Bobbi Bastedo, I compared him to the star at the center of any solar system, to the gravity that holds us to the world, to the sun in the sky. After that, and thanking everyone for coming out; I consoled family members as much as I could, and then went back to the hotel to lie down from the headache I now had (after posting this, of course).
(Also, turns out Glen Seymour *had* seen The Loved One- ha!)
The service was... well, it was. For me, Dad had pretty much died the day he started telling me stories about things we had done together as children; this was simply closure. Friends, and family I hadn't seen in decades, came to pay their respects; the Masons did a farewell service; I saw a few photos of him I'd never seen. Special mention to Glenn, the director of the funeral home, with whom I chatted briefly about old movies; thought of asking him if he'd ever seen The Loved One, but forebore.
Goodbye, Dad.
1/26
Funeral service last night; church service today. Probably the last time I'll ever be in the Potsdam Methodist church; interesting to look up at the ceiling and remember how the dome structure reminded me of the Enterprise, or how I once got a finger pinched in the door runner for the sliding doors that connect the coffee room and the main services area. Almost expected to see six-year-old me jumping down the steps, or running past the stained glass windows in the balcony.
At one point during the services, the minister (a woman, for the first time in my experience- progress) called for people to come up and offer personal remembrances. Originally, I hadn't planned to say anything- obviously not out of lack of love for my father, but simply because lack of sleep and kazillions of social encounters have been burning through my spoons, as I knew they would.
However, seeing my sister in tears up there unlocked something in my heart; while I wasn't able to find words nearly as eloquent as those with which Darin Bastedo eulogized Bobbi Bastedo, I compared him to the star at the center of any solar system, to the gravity that holds us to the world, to the sun in the sky. After that, and thanking everyone for coming out; I consoled family members as much as I could, and then went back to the hotel to lie down from the headache I now had (after posting this, of course).
(Also, turns out Glen Seymour *had* seen The Loved One- ha!)
