Tomorrow is one week

It's hard to believe that tomorrow will be one week since Ed died. I'm not sure everyone who would want to know of his death has even found out yet. However, cards are coming each day from all over the country, and the Dispatch.com guest book now includes messages from our Penn State friends who live far and wide. I even had a card and note today from Ed's secretary from probably more than 30 years ago; she said he was the best boss she ever had. Amazing how word does spread.

I started to write my thoughts about the viewing and funeral yesterday, but then I couldn't bring them together. So I'll give it a try now. The guest book at the funeral home has exactly 100 names in it. Ed would have liked the fact that I counted. It's something he would have done. We estimated there were 50 people at the house after the funeral, again estimating a crowd size was something he always did. I had carefully selected the music and readings for the Mass of Christian Burial, and for the most part the priest and choir followed through. The choir did a beautiful meditation, almost a Gregorian chant-like piece, after Communion that I didn't know about, but I appreciated the words and music. One thing I did not understand was the direction Father Brosmer's homily took. It started out fine in praising Ed's life and offering comfort to us, and I understood the ultimate message of encouraging us to do something good in memory of this good man, but when he launched into a litany of sorts of drastic sins and misdeeds that should be corrected, that I found out of place. My sister said maybe he has a standard funeral homily and he only adjusts the opening for each occasion. If that's true, I need to get on the Bereavement Committee at church and forewarn people! (That's an attempt at humor, meager though it is.) I asked my cousin Carole and her husband Ron Lapinsky to bring the gifts up to the altar during Mass. Besides the fact that Ed really enjoyed talking with Ron back in January at my Aunt Lou's funeral and that he knew how much I think of Carole as my big sister, Carole's frequent e-mails were comforting to both of us. I saw their participation at the Mass as a way of thanking them for their support and for traveling to be here. I'm also glad that I named honorary pall bearers. Ed decided he wanted six of his grandsons as pall bearers, and I'm very glad that Josh, Jeremy, Rob, Tommy, Kurt,and Kyle were willing, but I just knew, had we thought of it as we talked about what he wanted, that he would have wanted to show his honor and respect and love for his close friends, too: his life-long friends Larry Clements and Tom Gibbons from the Cincinnati area, and his closest friends from Norwalk, IA, Tom Greteman, Dave Hixenbaugh, Duane Frideres, and Joe Zerfas.

I really like the place at the cemetery that I chose for him, very near the tall flagpole and monument to veterans. Marie (my sister) and I went to the cemetery Thursday--she did not want me going there alone my first time. I was OK there. The gravesite was leveled out already and the flowers were still fresh-looking despite the heat of the day. We were lucky to have had a gorgeous, comfortable day for the funeral Wednesday.

Having everyone come to the house for a light lunch was exactly the kind of gathering Ed enjoyed--informal with good food. The informality at the viewing Tuesday evening was also the way he would have liked.

I read something online about the stages of grief, a different description than the Kubler Ross stages of grief that many people know. One I found seemed to fit me better: Numbness, Disorganization, Reorganization. I'm definitely in the numbness stage right now. I'm trying to go about the tasks of settling the estate in a methodical way, starting with preparing for my meeting with the estate attorney on Monday. I occasionally break down and ask no one in particular "Why" and "How do I go on." I can't stop thinking how unfair this is to Ed, to me, and to our family. The next stage is when someone completely loses herself to the grief, then the final stage is pulling yourself back together and finding your way in life. Although there are these stages, there is no timetable for when they hit or how long they take to get through.

I'm suddenly very tired--perhaps from the muscle relaxer I took 2 hours ago because my back has flared up again pretty badly. Thanks to all of you who came to the viewing and/or funeral. It means a lot to all of Ed's family to know how much you care. Thank you all for reading the blog. Even though I'm not necessarily writing about Ed now, this blog still makes me feel closer to him. I hope it does for you, too.