Grave Decisions

June 15th 2012

Early the next morning after Ron died, the kids - all 7 of them plus their significant others if they had one gathered at the house.  I am not sure what time I got out of bed that morning or if I showered, brushed my teeth or hair.  I think I had some coffee, but food was something I had no desire for.  I do remember looking around at the people collecting in my house and thinking I had no idea what was happening and who they were.  Someone was busy in the kitchen and things were being moved around and cleaned up.  Of course, couldn't I have just cleaned things out and had a neat spik and span house?  No, it is a disaster and not fit for company.  Food had already been delivered to the house from those who had already heard the news.  Such a socially acceptable thing to do, bring food to the grieving family.  I looked at the food with disgust.  I couldn't imagine eating any of it, it was like accepting that Ron was dead if a single bite crossed my lips.  Grief food is what other people have, not me, if can't be me this time!

My friend Val came to the house early with her notebook in hand, already filled with notes and to-do lists.  Little did I know that morning she was to become my winged angel through the transition to becoming a widow and burying my husband.  Certainly she was brought to me by the great Universe because I would have had no clue where to begin.  She gently offered suggestions about what to expect at each step and kept the kids involved with what needed to be done.  When the time came for us all to get in the car and go to the cemetery, Val went with us. 

My memory is still so vague about that day that I can't even tell you WHO was still in my house when we left, but I know Kerrie was.  She was my angel with chef's hat in place.  Kerrie handled the coordination of my home and all the food.  I had NEVER allowed someone to have as much control over my house as I allowed Kerrie during those days.  I just closed my eyes and trusted her.

We pulled into the property of Mt Sinai mortuary and cemetery.  I was carrying my ever-trusty refillable Camelback water bottle.  My lifeline.  Little sips kept me from passing out and calmed my nerves.  We walked in, told the woman at the front desk we were here for our appointment and were directed into a room in the back.  We walked into a large room with a big round table.  Interesting, a round table to gather and make decisions.  Like the knights of Arther's reign... here we are.  All the kids, Val and I sat down.  Looking around I tried to focus my eyes and think about the things Ron and I had discussed over the years regarding funeral planning.  What he wanted, didn't want, what was the "Jewish Way" an what specifically WASN'T.  He was an interesting man when it came to being Jewish.  He didn't do Chabat or eat kosher.  He loved his bacon for sure!  But, when it came to the traditions of being a Jew, he was very specific.  Pine box, shroud, in the ground in 3 days or less, light the yartzeit candle on Yom Kippur.  The man who was asking all the questions about what I wanted was offering his thoughts, but he was a stranger to me and I had no reason to trust this yarmulke wearing salesman.  I felt like we were on the TV show Millionaire and kept "phoning a friend" or using our lifeline.  Ellen and Saul, Ron's sister and brother in law were my source for all things Jewish.  "Do you want your husband to be buried with a yarmulke and tallit?" Huh? I have no idea, we never discussed this!  Adam - Call Aunt Ellen...   "Do you want him buried with soil from Jeruselum?"  What? is this standard?  Adam - Text Aunt Ellen.  "What is his Hebrew name?"  Oh crud, I know this.... I think....Shit, Call Ellen and ask Nanny, she will know for sure.  Steven piped in "Channah Lippa ben Mortichai Shlomo".  Ok, let's double check this...

After all the endless paperwork was done, we then had to pick out his casket.  Why does dying have to be so fucking complicated?  I felt beat to the bone already and now I had to stand and walk to the casket room.  Thank goodness the boys were there.  I had no bones in my legs and I felt like I was walking the "green mile" myself.  They literally carried me.  When we turned the corner and I saw rows upon rows of caskets, I lost it completely.  I couldn't hold myself up knowing my love, my husband would be in one of those boxes.  NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!  I can't do this!  I can't do this! I don't want to do this!  Slowly, we walked towards the plain pine boxes.  I wouldn't even give the others a second glance.  This was one of those hard line Jew things... "Only a pine box - no fancy caskets" he said when we discussed his funeral so long ago.  I saw one with a Star of David on the cover and my heart softened and I felt a connection to this box... Oh, my sweet baby... this is where you will lay your head... this is the one you will be forever buried, in the ground, away from my arms.  I lifted a shaky finger and pointed.  "This one... this is the one.  He would have like this one."

Next, we had to decide if he would wear 100% linen or cotton shroud.  Seriously?  Is there a difference?  I don't know if it really matters.  The cotton shroud looked so clean and neat, while the linen was frayed at the edges and had a more natural look.  I like the linen. Adam and Steven were huddled together in front of two gowns and they both silently pointed to the same one... the 100% linen.  Done. No discussion needed... Next?

We then had to decide about the tallit.  I thought maybe he should be buried with the one from his Bar Mitzvah.  I loved it so much and how it looked on him.  Draped over his shoulders as we entered Temple on the High Holidays, he was such a proud Jewish Man.  The man could see my distress over this seeming simple decision and said - "you keep his tallis, we will throw one in - no charge".  I just looked at him thinking "what a salesman he is... selling death."  But wait!  There's more!  Do I get a set of Ginsu Knives with the deal?  "thank you" I said to him quietly.  I was so happy to see the one they were "throwing in" looked exactly like Ron's.  It was perfect.

So many details, sign this, write a check, sign that, here's your box of goodies... yes, you get little door prizes when you plan a Jewish funeral.  A whole set of minyan books, a huge pile of yertzeit candles for this year and the next 10 years. One you start to burn the day they are buried then let it burn for a week.  Boxes of strange little tokens, like a coin set from the year he died, boxes to collect money in his memory, information on the Jewish grieving process.  What? there's a manual for that too?    How to get through the first week.  "This is Shiva... the time of intense mourning." One week they say.  So many rules when you are Jewish.  You get one week to be sad?  Really?

With our bags of parting gifts for the dearly departed, we all file out of the mortuary.  The funeral was set for Tuesday.  This is Friday.  Ron had the bad manners to die the day before Shabat and the Thursday before Father's Day.  No funerals on Shabat and they held no services on Father's Day.  Monday was the carry over from all who died before Ron so we had to wait until Tuesday.  He is going to be so mad.  He was very specific... THREE DAYS.  It will be 5 days on the day we bury him.    How am I going to get through the next 3 days waiting.  Waiting to place my husband's body in the ground - his body.. the one I held and who held me back, the one I kissed, made love to, tickled and tantalized.  The body that was warm and comforting at night and made me feel safe and loved and needed and alive.  My darling's body was not mine any longer, it now belongs to the earth and his forever grave.