I can't remember her funeral.

I was watching a movie tonight about a funeral and all the people this loss affected, and it turned me into a frenzy of thoughts and memories. I had a nightmare a few weeks ago. Not the kind of nightmare with boogiemen and spiders, but one about something that could actually happen. It terrified me. I dreamed that my father had a heart attack. We were on vacation someplace. He collapsed onto the floor, and I screamed. I tried to call for help, but I couldn't get my phone to dial 911. I kept trying but I kept pushing the wrong numbers and my hands were shaking. There were people all over the room staring at him convulsing on the floor, and no one was doing anything to help. I was yelling at my sister to dial, but she just stood there with a shocked look on her face unable to move. I started yelling "someone fu**ing call 911! What the fu** is wrong with you people. We have to save him." I got down on the floor and I said I know CPR! I will save him until the paramedics get here. I reached over and rolled him on his back to start, but when I looked at his face, his eyes were rolled back into his head and his mouth was full of yellow bile... I screamed, and then I woke up. It was terrible. I am still haunted by this Image. I can't imagine what my life would be like without him.

I got to thinking about my grandparents and saying goodbye at their funerals. I remember my mommom's funeral when I was 13. She was in a pink casket with gold roses on it. There were pink flowers and she was buried in the dress she wore to my mother's wedding. I didn't understand what was going on or why. I had never been to a funeral until then. I remember I had a moment of realization on the way out of the graveyard. I always waited for her when we went places. I would walk with her and hang out with her. When we were leaving the chapel at the cemetery I remember that moment when I thought to myself "I should wait for mommom" and paused... then remembered that I was here because she had gone. I think that was my first moment of truly understanding what it meant to lose her. My heart broke 1000 times that day.

I remember my grandfather's funeral when I was 19. I remember the casket was the same color of carolina blue as his car. It had a silver cross on it. He wore a gray suit. I remember thinking that his face didn't look quite right, and then realizing that until then, even when he was relaxing alone, his face always appeared to be smiling. This was the first time he looked truly unhappy. It freaked me out. I remember when they went to close his casket I looked at my cousin K and started sobbing that they were going to close it and we were never going to see him again. I couldn't stop crying. I remember dropping a rose onto his coffin at the graveyard and I remember my father began to cry. Fast forward to Thanksgiving day 8 months later. My grandfather was always the center of every holiday. I found myself missing him. After dinner I went to the cemetery to leave a flower on his grave, and I remember feeling like someone punched me in the stomach. I started crying saying out loud that he should be home in the warmth - with his family who loves him - not out all alone in this cold dreary cemetery on a day that was supposed to commemorate the people we are blessed to have in our lives. I felt so alone.

I have these clear memories of these funerals and send offs for my grandparents - except for my mommom who passed away the most recently - about 4 years ago... I was closest with her. She was my heart, and I loved her more than anything in the world. Maybe it's because I was living so far away when she actually passed. I remember the flight home. I remember the empty house, but I don't remember a thing about the funeral. Not the casket, color, flowers, viewing, her face, absolutely nothing. I remember that my sister didn't show up for it. I remember hating her for it. She stayed home and tried to tell me it was our fault she wasn't coming. I spent the day being asked over and over again by my whole family where she was, why she didn't come, and what exactly she thought she was doing. Her husband was there - but not her. I don't think I have ever forgiven her for this. I don't remember which church the service was held in, or who I sat with. It's the strangest thing. The only thing I can remember about her funeral was that my sister abandoned me and made me go to it alone. and I really have no idea what to make of it. It's amazing which details of our lives our minds have chosen to hang on to and which ones to let go...