a reply to: Quantum12
I was just thinking of you on that plane, alone with him. I hope you can cherish the moment and memory, painful as it is.
Please put those other people out of your head and keep them out. Why invite riffraff to a "private party." What's done is done and now it's time for
this moment now, well lived.
When I went to LA to attend my mother's funeral, many years ago, no one came to meet us at the Greyhound station. I had never felt so abandoned. We
took a city bus, late at night, to my mother's apartment, but couldn't enter it because it had been sealed off by the police. Not knowing where to go
next, we went to the local church, where we sat, with me crying alone in the darkness.
A priest came by, looking a bit irritated, and asked what we were doing there. I explained, and he looked at me and smiled said I looked like
her....he knew her. He took us to the rectory and fixed us a cup of coffee for us and some bread and then he put us up in a sleazy hotel on Sepulveda,
apologizing that this was all he could afford, but for us it was a most precious gift.
I'll spare the details for another time because this is about you...and him, alone, and quietly extended to your mom. But the part I want to share now
was the unexpected shock to find myself snubbed by my family. To my horror, they openly and viciously blamed me for her suicide, even though I was a
thousand miles away and she had called and reached out to each of them.
At the funeral, I was left outside the church, as they all filed in, but that proved to be providential. I overheard the funeral director nab my
husband, because there were not enough Paul bearers, but they still remained one person short. I stepped up to bat and said, "I'll do it!"... Even
though inside, I was terrified. Now this was 1982 and a different set of invisible rules ran this odd planet, but they literally had no choice. And
so, I entered the church in dignified style, as if I were secretly holding her hand, while I could hear their whispers of disapproval as we walked
down the aisle with her.
Once outside, the drama continued. Everyone got into the numerous cars and disappeared in a flash. I went to step into the limosein and I was half way
in when an uncle grabbed my elbow and yanked me out of the car and said, "You aren't running this show!"
I could not believe what was happening. I was standing there alone. Everyone was gone. Even my husband had been whisked away in another car.
I looked about and saw that the frightening white hearse was still there. I walked over to it and saw the driver was smoking a cigarette while
listening to a ball game. It was a hot day and the passenger side window was open. I leaned in through the open window and said, "Is this seat taken?"
The poor man looked like he had seen a ghost. He sat up, snapped off the radio, quickly snubbed out his cigarette, and said, "No, ma'am."...To which I
replied, "it is now!"
While there wasn't a moment that I wasn't feeling terrified and angry and alone, there was this other, detached part of me that saw the humor in the
moment and truly enjoyed the ride, as I had discovered a side of strength that I didn't know I had, while also discovering the weaknesses and fears of
That was quite a ride, and she and I arrived in style, while traffic stopped for us, and men removed their hats and many crossed themselves in silent
respect...quite a ride indeed.
So Q, I know you are a man of courage and dignity, or you wouldn't be in that plane right now, alone with him. I already know how proud he is that you
are there now, with him and your mom. Ignore the rest, unless it is expressed through a filter of love. And if you feel something wet, wiggling in
your pocket, it's me, stowed away In case you need a Friend.
Don't forget those packets of Kleenex. You can speak volumes in silence, if the need arises to hand one to them.