At least for me, hands down the best part of a funeral and attending the viewings is getting to see and connect with people from all periods of a person’s life. I was able to see elementary school friends I hadn’t seen in decades, hear stories from people who knew my mom growing up, meet people my dad has worked with, and just interact with so many people who love my parents and our family. I felt like the viewings were wonderful, especially the evening viewing the night before (we didn’t have any of the grandkids there that evening, so we were free to visit uninterrupted with all sorts of family and friends). Have I mentioned before just how very much I like people? 🙂
My sisters and I decided to all wear dresses of my mom’s to the viewing, and then one of my daughters wore a “Grandma dress” to the funeral. Loved having that connection to my mom during the evening. And the display! So fun getting to set it up (although difficult to pare down what things we would be able to show). I loved getting to “show off” how incredibly talented and all around amazing my mom was. There were so many examples of things my mom had sewn or made, including displaying my gorgeous wedding dress that I hadn’t gotten out in at least 15 years. Making it was such an act of love from my mom, involving 100’s of hours of labor and SO MUCH handsewn lace. All with me living long-distance at the time, too, so we were only able to do a couple of fittings – poor mom, there was a reason that she vowed to never again sew a wedding dress! And yes, I did get curious and wonder if I could still wear it. 21 years and nine pregnancies later, I was able to get it on and zip it up (still fit in the waist, hips, and shoulders/arms), but couldn’t QUITE get those top buttons done. So close!
In my experience, the funeral itself is always harder than the viewings. It was an emotional day for my kids, and I cried through most of my talk. (During which my WATERPROOF mascara completely failed me, so not exactly pretty, yikes.) But I was able to say what I wanted to say, and I didn’t cry while playing the chimes (accompanying the grandchildren singing “I Am a Child of God,” as my mom had requested). I had worried about if I would be able to play at my own mother’s funeral, but being the only family member who plays chimes I was the obvious choice to do it. It’s perfectly fine to cry while giving a talk, but teary eyes and being able to read music really do not mix well. I’m not sure how many people I asked to specifically pray that I’d be able to get through that performance, but it clearly worked and all went beautifully. In the actual moment I didn’t even feel nervous.
We also continued what is now becoming a family tradition (but hopefully one we won’t need to exercise again for a LONG time) of writing messages on the casket in Sharpie markers. That really does make the graveside experience a much more positive one, especially for the children involved. Even if it was blazing hot! And the funeral luncheon was simply lovely. They even had a separate gluten free table for my daughter, and the Relief Society had made my mom’s famous cherry bars (one of my dad’s favorites) for dessert. I also loved that they had set up a table of crafts and coloring that kept the kids engaged. So thoughtful!
If anyone is interested, I thought I would include my funeral talk in this post. All of my siblings spoke, as well as my dad. It felt like everyone’s contribution was just right (although writing a “short” talk was harder for me than a long one would have been – I don’t seem to have any trouble filling up time with talking!). I don’t have a video recording of the funeral (yet?), but I will post one if or when I do.
SUZANNE’S TALK FROM HER MOTHER’S FUNERAL
I don’t think it is ever easy for a girl to lose her mother, no matter how old she is when it occurs. I realize that some mother-daughter relationships are challenging, while others are very close. Either way, losing your mother is an emotion-laden experience. I’ll admit, though, that this is feeling especially difficult for me in light of other recent losses I have had in my life, ones that Mom helped me to bear and get through. So no promises that I’ll be able to get through this today without becoming a blubbering mess.
Mom and I always had a good relationship, but it was when she and Dad moved here to Utah 14 years ago that our connection really moved past a mother-daughter dynamic to becoming incredibly close as friends. We shared a love of music and played handbells and chimes together. We shopped together, shared book recommendations, picked out flowers and plants together, made decorating decisions, and over the years enjoyed many wonderful lunches out together. Mom was one of my closest and dearest friends. That relationship further deepened, though, when my husband was diagnosed with leukemia two years ago, and then passed away seven months later. Despite her failing health, Mom ministered to our family in many unique ways only she could have done.
As I have had immense demands on my time and energy these past two years as a caregiver and then solo parent working full-time, Mom has often stepped in as a surrogate mother for my children. Aside from their parents there is no one else who has had a greater impact on their lives. There was a reason that Mom was the person I wanted most to bring my children to meet me at the hospital where they would say final good-byes to their father. I knew the calming and steadying influence she would be for them. And I just wanted my mama there with me. So she was there, only five days after having had a major surgery to treat her own progressing cancer. There was a reason that for months Mom was the only person who was allowed into our home as we were strictly isolating because of COVID and with my husband being so ill and immunocompromised. I couldn’t do it without her.
If you knew Mom then you knew she was extremely talented, and while we were both musical, many of her strengths were unfortunately not ones I shared with her. Grandma was the one to go to if you ever needed something sewn or repaired (she even sewed my gorgeous wedding dress), or if you wanted to do crafts or art projects, or learn the secrets of baking. I couldn’t even begin to guess how many Grandma dates my kids went on with her, how many sewing projects there were, how many hours she helped with homework, or the number of child events she attended. It still feels unimaginable to fathom how we are going to do this next part without her here.
A few months ago I came across a letter that Mom wrote to me when she was dropping me off for my first semester of college, across the country from where my family then lived in Virginia. This letter carries extra significance for me now, and not only because I can better relate to some of her feelings as my own oldest child will be graduating from high school next year.
The envelope says
To Suzanne: Please open after I leave.
I’d like to share some portions of that letter here with you today. She wrote,
“Dear Suzanne,
“This is probably the hardest letter I have ever written. As I sit here tonight…I have very mixed feelings.
“I am amazed that the years have passed so quickly. When I look back at the years since you were born, I wonder, as all mothers do at times, if I have been a good enough mother for you. But despite any shortcomings I may have as a parent, I do have one great asset – I love you with all my heart….I am very proud to know you as a person as well as my daughter.
“As you venture out on your own for the first time, you may have concerns about things that you haven’t done or encountered before. I have every confidence in your ability to cope and adapt. You may not have all the…skills…or whatever other knowledge you feel you need to be on your own. Those things can and will be easily learned. What you are taking with you is so much more important. You have a strong and growing testimony of the Savior and the gospel. You have wonderful habits of daily prayer, scripture study, and journal writing…You also take with you the love of your family.
“Your father and I are so proud of you. It is not easy for us to let you go, but we know that you are ready to take on the world and shine in whatever you do.
“Always remember that I love you. I have a prayer in my heart for you always. Thank you for helping me learn how to be a mother.
“Love, Mom.”
Mom may have, at times, doubted if she had been “good enough” as a parent to me, Marie, Christine, and my brother Ken. But her children didn’t doubt it. We knew we had an angel of a mother. As he mentioned Ken may have had a slightly different, but perhaps deserved, experience with this, but I cannot remember my mom ever once raising her voice. In fact, my sisters and I have often discussed that being raised by Mom probably gave us some pretty unrealistic expectations about how patient and loving we were going to be as mothers. She was the quintessential peacemaker, teaching us by example how to serve and treat others with kindness and love.
I am who I am today because of my mother. I have those habits she first taught me as a young child, and then demonstrated by her example how important they were. Mom’s influence has helped my children grow and develop into the amazing, talented, compassionate humans they now are. I think of my mother every time I read in 1 Corinthians 13, how her life embodied the traits mentioned there: “Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth: Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth.”
This forced time apart we now have is hard. Mom has gone ahead to a place where I don’t yet get to follow. It’s not easy for us here to let her go. I too am amazed at how quickly the years we had together have gone. But even if I still don’t feel like I have the skills and knowledge I need to do this next chapter without her, I know Mom had confidence in me and trusted that I would learn to cope and adapt. I have no doubt that she loves our family. Thank you, Mom, for helping me learn how to be a mother. Thank you for helping your family to shine. We will always remember that you love us.
Chieko Okazaki said, “When we lose a righteous person who is dear to us, we have the opportunity to honor that person by incorporating the best principles from his or her life into ours. What were his gifts? What were her talents? …. Following the example of a loved one, we can love the Lord, make covenants with the Lord, and keep them faithfully. We too can seek to understand the Savior’s great mission of atonement, redemption, and salvation. We too can seek to become worthy followers of the Son of God. And we too can anticipate that when the time comes for us to step through the veil of mortality, leaving our failing and pain-filled bodies behind, we will see the loving smile and feel the welcoming embrace, not only of our Heavenly Parents and of the Savior, but also of our loved ones who will greet us in full vigor, full remembrance, and full love…
“I testify to you that the answer of faith is a powerful one, even in the most difficult of circumstances, because it does not depend on us—on our strength to endure, on our willpower, on the depth of our intellectual understanding, or on the resources we can accumulate. No, it depends on God, whose strength is omnipotence, whose understanding is that of eternity, and who has the will to walk beside us in love, sharing our burden… when our Red Sea blocks our way and when the storm threatens to overwhelm us, he enters the water with us, holding us in the hands of love, supporting us with the arms of mercy. When we emerge from the valley of the shadow, we will see that he was there with us all the time.”
The separation is painful, but I know that those assurances are ones that we can lean on to be able to endure it for a time. Even in the midst of sorrow we can choose to follow my Mom’s example of faith, to live a charitable life. I love you too, Mom. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
There you have it. Everything is so busy and constantly go, go, go for the family leading up to the funeral, and then there is the inevitable crash that follows as “real life” sets back in. This week is back to our normal routine of work and swim lessons and play dates and orthodontist appointments and all the things. I feel ready to step back in, though. I will continue to field waves of grief, and when asked how I’m doing I hold to my now standard answer of “I’m OK in moments and not so OK in other moments.” I’m OK in THIS moment. I’ll be grateful for that and will appreciate it while it lasts.
