Checked off

I survived my first funeral. It's done, it's over, it's checked off of my list. I actually did better than I thought that I would. This entire week I was feeling weak and insecure. I was terrified of what people might say to me and how I might respond. It was consuming me. On Thursday, I met with a wonderful friend who I consider to be a Christian mentor. For some reason, she can say the hard stuff to me and I actually appreciate it. In fact, I welcome it. And that's exactly what she did. She reminded me that this wasn't about me. That I needed to support my husband while he buried his father. That I needed to stop pulling him away from his family no matter the reason (but she did agree that their offenses were inconceivable). That I needed to act how God wanted me to act : with love and compassion.

So that's exactly what I decided to do. I physically lifted my head up, ruffled my feathers for protection and started practicing how I was going to respond to every question that I could imagine being asked. I practiced with my friend and then by myself all throughout the night on Thursday (I didn't sleep well). I was determined to be friendly, polite and happy ... or at least that's the impression that I wanted everyone to have of me.

Luckily, my dear friend from Northern Ca. had offered to fly in for the day to protect me...I mean go with me. That helped my confidence too. My husband is a wonderful man but he has never been good at protecting me from his family.

The kids and I decided not to go to the morning burial at the military cemetery an hour away. None of us were up for the images and memories that would come from that. I felt bad that my husband had to drive out to the cemetery alone and that I wouldn't be able to hold his hand as he said his final goodbye's to his father, but he understood. So, the kids and I met him at the Memorial Service in the afternoon. We arrived 10 minutes late (I'm never late but it was a CRAZY morning) and by then it was standing room only in the back. So that's where we stood.

The service was nice. Many wonderful things were said and felt. Then a couple of family members spoke about how important "family" was to his Dad. That nothing could ever be said to justify breaking the "family" apart. About how his dad always overlooked offenses that were made against him and forgave family members. I looked at my friend and said "are they talking about us"? It really seemed like the focus of the eulogy turned to reconciling us with the family. Even my husband mentioned that it was a strange speech that seemed pointed in that direction. Then another family member spoke about how we shouldn't be sad that his dad died because he is in Heaven. He said that we shouldn't mourn his death but should instead celebrate his life. It sounded like he was speaking directly to us when he further explained that though they will miss his dad, we shouldn't focus on the loss and we should get on and live a happy life. I will add that this person has two healthy boys -- one being a newborn. He has never experienced a tragedy and to my knowledge has never had to bury anyone under 70 years old. I just don't understand how anyone can give others advice when they haven't walked in their shoes. And I might add that this is an extremely strong Christian family that should be familiar with Ecclesiastes 3:4 There is a time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. Even God says it's okay to grieve.

I haven't seen these people since we begged them (in person) for help last Summer and they walked away and we didn't hear from them again for many months. How could they possibly have the nerve to say those things? I don't know why I was shocked -- I should have expected nothing less. But I was. I never anticipated this at all.

After the service, I waited in the lobby area with my kids -- using the excuse that I had to keep an eye on them. My husband was busy making his way around to all of the guests. I barely saw him and was so glad that I had a friend by my side so I wasn't alone. Some of the family members trickled out to say hello. Many didn't and that was fine with me. I was extremely polite and friendly (my friend confirmed this). I was so proud of myself. I congratulated everyone on their new babies (everyone in that family under 45 is either pregnant or has a new baby) and told them how nice it was to see them. Many commented on how big my kids were now and I wanted so badly to say "What do you expect? You haven't seen them for over a year". But I didn't. I just simply nodded and decided to take the high road.

After 3 hours (yes, I lasted 3 hours), we decided to leave. One of the family members chased us down to tell us that they were having everyone over to their house for a gathering and would really like us to come. She put a lot of pressure on me. It was very uncomfortable. I explained that I had a friend in town and wouldn't be able to go but that my husband would be joining them. She was disappointed and strongly encouraged me to come with my friend.

I realized after that his family has absolutely no clue what we are going through. The fact that they would use a memorial to try and correct the dissention in the family (that THEY caused) and tell us how to move on from our grief was a shock to me. Even more of a shock was the fact that they would expect me to come to a family gathering filled with people that completely bailed on us and that would include 1 toddler (born 4 months before Nate), 1 baby, 2 newborns and 1 pregnant sister. How is that even possible?

On top of it all, I realized just how little importance Nate had in their lives. When Nate died unexpectedly, not one of them came over to our house (they all gathered together at someone else's house to pray and for fellowship). None of them hosted a reception for us after the funeral. Not one of them followed us home to make sure that we were okay after we buried our son (as a side note someone did "drop" off a meal for that night). It was hard for me to see the "family" unite and do all of those things AND MORE for his dad. They were surrounding his mom constantly and giving her tons of support. I understand that they knew and loved his dad and had many memories with him. I understand that it was a different circumstance. But honestly, our son was a Larson. He was family. And even if they didn't care about him, it would have been nice if they would have done those things for us -- no doubt that they do know us.