It was a sweet funeral. Not bittersweet, just sweet. The bitter was the last few months witnessing her making herself ready. A century is a long time.
There were twelve Catholic priests (one of them her own son) and a bishop celebrating her Mass. That is quite a sight to behold, especially in a smallish church.
Since I sat in the aisle in my wheelchair, I sat closer to her than anyone else. At one point I reached out and touched the vestment that covered her coffin. Just saying my final goodbye. Taking advantage of the fact that God put me so logistically close. I did have a migraine when Mass began and so for the Gospel part, I put my sleeping mask over my face, letting the darkness help the medicine work, remembering that it was none of my business what anybody else thought. During the Eucharist, I watched through 2 pairs of sunglasses. It is the first Eucharist I have witnessed and received for at least 4 years, maybe more. Very special to me. Usually, I give in to the utter discomfort of it but, of course, I would not allow that to be an option during this service. I didn't cry much, some nose running. But, singing is such a personal, special thing to me that I could not join in song because that's when tears would really come. I had to be quiet.
The Rosary for her the previous evening was quite special too. I'm sure I have been to others for loved ones but, I don't recall them. My parents, my cousins, my aunts and uncles were active participants in both these services, and I wished I could be. But, I was there. And that was enough. In fact, that was a lot. I think most everyone now knows my Tim to be the superhero he is for his part in driving me 8 hours to her home in rural Nebraska. I'm glad for that. I want him to be appreciated by my loved ones. He does more for me than I can possibly describe in the mere English language. He lets me have my own life, and yet, he never inflicts guilt or disappointment when my condition disallows something he hoped for in his own life.
My uncle, Fr. Mel, celebrated a family Mass in one of the hotel rooms and I read the second reading. My folks told me how great I did. I thought, all I did was read aloud a piece of Scripture. Maybe they have never heard me do that before. I can read with quite a lot of inflection, which makes listening more interesting. And I got to thank the Lord for her foundation of faith, which allows the layers of faith to grow so strong, that now, I can bear this cross. Some who are affected as I am cannot bear the burden. Suicides happen. But, I was given a gift she shared with her children, which was then shared with me. Faith.
I am so full of gratitude that I got to see my beloved, treasured aunts and uncles, cousins, parents, brother, and meet some of the many many folks my Grandma's life affected. It was a very sweet time. The weather was lovely and my symptoms were not severe. I took naps and medicine while others visited. It allowed me to be part of things in the way that I could.
It will be some days before either Tim or I feel recovered from such a long drive. We are not accustomed to that. It is priceless to be home.
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