Head's Up

Good news! As of the end of this month, the Addiverse will be available in https mode. Or, so says Blogger and I choose to believe them. That's good news for you safety fans. You don't have to do anything. Just smile and be safe. Safe blogging, people.

Lest you think I was sitting around eating bon bons last week, I am here to tell you that I unfortunately spent the week writing a funeral service. It was a very distinct honor but still.... it was a funeral service. I chewed on it, pondered on it, wrote it, re-wrote it, pondered some more. In then end, I was satisfied with the resulting "script." It read well at the service and it conveyed what I was trying to say. It seemed well-received.

The only problem? It was a funeral script....

...a funeral script for MJagger's brother's memorial service.

It was a huge honor to be asked to serve as the minister for the service, but I would prefer not to have to do such things because in order to do it, someone had to die. Now, that may seem like a stupid sentence, but it's true. To capture a life in a service is difficult; to do it for the sibling of a dear, dear friend is much more difficult.

I give huge credit to his mom, as she did what he would have wanted. Instead of a full Catholic mass, of which I'm 99% sure is what she would have preferred and which I'm 100% sure he would have hated, she gave him a send-off like no other, complete with Rolling Stones music (playing from his iPhone) and sports-themed attire (Bulls, Bears and Cubs only, please). At the visitation, the family stood in formation, proudly wearing their sports jerseys and Stones T-shirts. Out of respect to his family, I won't describe the wake any further than that...except to note the three sisters had a Rolling Stones logo made out of roses placed next to the (thankfully closed) casket. It was an amazing floral feat.

The memorial service was like no other. After all, how often do you see a minister wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt under the suit? I got rave reviews for that mark of originality.

The service was more than fitting. MJagger knocked it out of the park with her 20 minute eulogy.  I loved that she confessed her first illegal act was at age seven and prompted by her brother. I laughed so hard that it made me cry.  She brought that story to life. It's exactly what he would have wanted.

The service was filled with love, laughter and tears. A whole lot of tears.

I shall say no more. Respect is appropriate. 

As for the actual graveside "event," I wasn't very well versed at that. I had reviewed what the minister was supposed to "do" and was sure I would be able to perform the five minute service without a hitch. I rode in some big-ass car with the funeral director--first car in a line of cars as long as the eye could see. We had 20 or more minutes to chat, as it was quite the drive to the cemetery. I quizzed him on graveside expectations and was relieved to hear I had it "right." (That ride was very interesting, by the way. The funeral director and I had a lot in common, including his in-laws being from the town I was raised. It's a small world.)

It was freezing outside. I had a coat but thought better of wearing it. I thought my black pants suit more appropriate for the solemn occasion.  (Next time, I'll wear my coat. I was shaking I was so cold. I'm afraid my lips might have been turning blue by the end of our time at the cemetery. You don't want blue lips when serving as a minister OR when standing in a cemetery. Those grave diggers might get a little feisty, seeing those blue lips.) It was spitting out a little bit--just enough to be obnoxious for persons wearing glasses. The wind was howling. Everyone was gathered under the little canopy covering provided by the cemetery. Such a gloomy day, right in line for the gloomy occasion.

When we arrived, I met the hearse, just as planned. I walked along with the pall bearers as they headed to the graveside area. I had my little black minister's book. I took my place at the head of the casket and began the short service, visibly shaking with coldness.

....Now, it's probably not nice to make fun of anything about a graveside service but I'm about to make fun of myself. Brace yourself as I poke a little fun at me....

...I'm reading the 23rd Psalm when I suddenly realize I am standing at MJagger's brother's feet, not his head.

I'm here to tell you that it's hard to tell the "top" (head) from the "bottom" (feet) when looking at a closed casket. I didn't realize  anything was amiss until I was reading that Psalm and took a good look at the casket. OMG, how did this happen? I had practiced this in my head a dozen times. I knew where I was supposed to be. I kept track of what was going on as we processed to the canopy-covered area. I had been in proper position as the pall bearers carried the casket from the hearse to the graveside....

...I didn't pay close enough attention when they placed the casket on the stand. Although I had led the procession, I didn't notice that they swung the casket around as they placed it where it was supposed to be. Thus, I most unfortunately found myself at what was once was his head but now was his feet.

There was the crucifix-on-the-casket, facing me. That meant I was in the wrong place. I should be looking at the crucifix upside down, not right-side up. Jesus was looking down upon me, not up at me!

This probably didn't matter to anyone and I don't think it negates the prayers said and I'm pretty sure no one noticed except the funeral director and one of MJagger's cousins, but it REALLY befuckled me. My reading of the 23rd Psalm left a LOT to be desired. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do? Sashay my way toward the top of the casket? I stood there, shaking, befuckled, pressing on. I wanted to move toward the "top" but stood firmly in place. I figured it would be less noticeable if I stayed put, even though it was driving me bonkers. I dared not look up at the funeral director.

I think I may have slaughtered the "Our Father" out of my befucklement. It was very distracting, this being at the wrong end. The service was much shorter than I planned and that's saying a lot, considering the actual service I planned was only 5 minutes in duration.

In hindsight, I'm sure MJagger's brother was laughing at me. I'm confident he didn't mind and perhaps savored my error. I never said anything to the family, so who knows if they noticed. (They aren't blog readers, so they are none the wiser from this confession.) I will admit to my snafu if asked; I'm going with lying by omission for the time being.

Some day, when time has passed and the pain has dissipated a wee bit, I will tell this to MJagger.  She will laugh. She will laugh a lot. It's too soon for such laughter, but the day will come.

The next time I do a funeral, I'm going to put a little sticker or mark on the "feet" side of the casket so I get it right. I'm not making that mistake ever again.

Head's up. Here's a head's up that I'll be head's up. I'll have my coat on, I won't be wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt and I will be head's up.

Please, oh-Jesus-on-the-cross, look up upon me instead of down upon me.

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