Friday, February 13, 2015

the viewing


So Frank's viewing was last night and his funeral is today. I walked right up and gave him a look see, told him I was glad to have known him though I suspect whatever might be left of Frank was already with Dorothy. We went to Dorothy's funeral and it was the first catholic funeral we had ever been to. I had expected to see her body at the viewing, which I did, but was not expecting to walk into the small lobby of the church and see her there where everyone was crowded in. And I thought the whole communion thing around the casket was weird but I guess most ritual is weird.

This looking at a dead body thing is new to me. For all my life I had avoided looking at a dead person. The funerals I went to with open caskets, I would avert my gaze. I'm not really sure where this aversion came from. Probably my dad. He was a pathologist albeit a reluctant one. He wanted to be a surgeon but then he got TB during the war. Afterwards when he was well, he let others convince him it would be too strenuous for a survivor of TB and so he became a pathologist. Someone who dealt with the dead and with the diseases that killed them.

My father hated death, hated funerals, didn't want to have a funeral, hated black. We were not allowed to wear black in my house. He had a few black suits, of course, but he also had and wore a peacock blue suit, a canary yellow suit, an emerald green suit, a burnt orange suit. I loved his colorful suits. He wore red socks with his tuxedo.

Anyway, he didn't want us, his family, to see his body after he had died. His father had died when he was 13 and he claimed that that final image of his dead father was the only image he could conjure up and he didn't want his children to remember him that way. So when he died of a massive stroke in the middle of the night and when I got to the hospital which was an hour's drive away and the nurse asked me if I wanted to see him and spend a few moments with him, I told her no. Judging by the look on her face, she didn't think much of that but that was his wish. And so I continued to decline to view the bodies of family and friends.

Then my brother-in-law was dying* and in hospice care at home and I was helping my sister and being there and figured it was time for me to experience death, dying, and dead bodies. It was imminent, my sister's girls who he had mostly raised had arrived and I went home for a brief spell and hadn't been home 10 minutes when they called, it was time, it was happening. He passed before I got back so I missed the actual dying. But I got a good long look at his dead body. And you know what? There wasn't anything icky or scary or terrible about it. And it's not the only way I remember my brother-in-law.

So back to Frank. Talking with his son Allen, we learned that Frank did not, as I had thought, die in his sleep. He actually had a pretty good day, even was outside in a wheelchair for part of the day. Allen had been over to visit, Frank ate a good meal, went back to bed. Zaide went in to check on him and Frank was awake, he reached out and took her hands and breathed his last.

I think that's how I want to go. Quietly, easy, in old age, but awake.


* I wrote about it extensively here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here.




13 comments:

  1. it does sound like a good way to go, surrounded by loved ones, holding a beloved's hand.

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  2. Looking isn't for me - maybe it is denial. When my father's coffin was carried, there were bumps and jolts, and my memory of him at the time was of his body being thrown about inside the box and I thought of it all crumpled and broken going through the curtain. Maybe looking would have been better. Of course I now remember him just as he was when alive.

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  3. Each person has what they like I hope, put me in the mulch pule.

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  4. Dead folks, we rarely get to see them in this culture unless they are all dolled up and full of preservatives and wax. It is just an old vehicle, I reckon. Seeing the lifeless really puts a stamp on it. Death is not the only memory I have of those whose funerals I have attended but I can see how your Dad might have been traumatized. LOVE what he did with it, colourful suits and red socks! That certainly tells black attire to go ef itself!

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  5. When my cousin died (I was 21), my aunt, who was a nun, had to get permission to enter a Baptist church for Bob's funeral service. When it was over Aunt Ruth said "That was a tempest in a teapot (referring to asking permission, I'm sure). It's just like out church." That was 1964. Churches are interesting beasts.

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  6. I wouldn't mind going out this way, peacefully and without regrets.

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  7. Death doesn't scare me, it is all a cycle. I want to be with my dad when he goes. I have always felt bad that I was not with Mother when she went. They held her body until I could get there and I talked to her. I told her I was there and that I loved her in spite of herself, then I re-buttoned her dress. They had done it wrong for her showing. I don't know why, but it was important to me that the buttons were properly buttoned as she went to the crematorium.

    I am a bit wordy today, must be the drugs.

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  8. I've never been a fan of the whole viewing thing, but I will say that without it I have less of a sense of closure. We only had a memorial service for my mother and her brother since they were cremated. I can't decide if that makes them seem less gone or not.

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  9. I worked in the mortuary field for awhile. I've seen enough dead bodies to last me for this and the next life time. But I think it's great that you wished Frank a fond farewell.

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  10. I have felt the same way about death and dying. I have only seen one dead body and that was at the viewing of a friend's father. I never knew him so it wasn't upsetting to me.

    I'm fascinated with your dad's aversion to death and his career, whether that was his choice or not. I'm also fascinated with his colourful suits. :) He must have been quite the character.

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  11. My mom had a very strong aversion to dead bodies (& a great fear of being buried alive), so she was cremated. I was in Ohio when she died so I didn't see her. I think it would have been really upsetting to me because she'd been so sick, so already didn't look like herself. On the other hand, when Mike's mom died the funeral home did a great job on her - she looked peaceful & not the least bit scary.

    When I was a teenager my grandmother's stepbrother died. Mom & I drove Mamaw from NC to Baltimore for the funeral & got to the funeral home just in time for the viewing. We didn't want to go in because we didn't know him or any of the family, & my mom had the aforementioned phobia of dead bodies. But wouldn't you know, they'd placed the casket so that every time the door opened you could see his nose peeking out. We got such a case of inappropriate giggles...

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  12. You handled the whole thing beautifully. No regrets. I am not a viewer myself, just not my cup of tea. My mother-in-law, father, and dear friend of the family died quickly. That's how I want to go but not for a lot of years yet.

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I opened my big mouth, now it's your turn.