Category Archives: Randomness

Burial

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There’s a cemetery on the grounds of Ethan’s school. It’s right next to the playground, just off the school’s parking lot. It’s creeped him out since he started there earlier this year (just weeks before his dad died).

Late last week, Ethan got in trouble during gym class and had to miss recess as a punishment. It was halfway through recess when a school aide came into Ethan’s class to let his teacher know that the kids would be coming in early. “There’s a burial going on and we want to respect the family,” said the aide in explanation.

Ethan’s eyes grew wide, tears filled them, and he freaked out. He got up from his desk and ran to the other side of the room. He started sobbing, wailing. He was uncontrollable.

His teacher, who was widowed about five years ago, hugged him close. She ended up sending him to the principal to calm down before his classmates saw him all red-faced and blotchy from crying.

This caused chaos to the rest of his week. He couldn’t get over the burial that had taken place days before (even though he didn’t see it). He was acting out in class, being disruptive and argumentative.

When his teacher told me about this, Ethan and I were on our way out-of-town. Ethan and I had a deal that if he was good all week, he could spend the night with me (without Lauren or my mom) and help me get set up for homecoming the next day – which I would be working as part of my obligation to my alma mater. Obviously, he had a tough week, and usually I’m a hard ass about this kind of thing, but I couldn’t punish him for being sad. When there was a funeral right there.

We left the school and walked to the car on Friday afternoon. Ethan was crying – probably because he thought he wouldn’t be allowed to go with me. He climbed into his seat and I sat on the floor of the backseat, just below his feet. We talked about how sad we were about the deaths of my dad and Mike. We hugged. I told him how much he meant to me. Then we went to homecoming. Ethan, too.

Since then, he’s mentioned the cemetery every time we pulled up to the school.Things like this are hard. It sucks that there’s a cemetery right next to the school. But there’s nothing we can do about that – the grave yard existed YEARS before the church or the school. There aren’t many burials, and I don’t remember there being any since Ethan started school there.

I doubt any of his classmates were fazed by the burial last week, but Ethan was. Most kids probably don’t give the cemetery a second thought. It’s just part of the school grounds. But it’s a constant reminder to a little boy who lost his dad and grandpa within years of each other.

It’s tough.

Things you don’t think of – but damn glad you were asked

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I received an email today from my alma mater wanting to know how I wanted a couple of donations made to the school noted in the “Roll Call of Donors” section of the alumni magazine. One was easy – my name listed as a donor under my graduating year. The second donation warranted the email: how should a donation to the general fund be listed? Traditionally, when a couple is composed of two alums, it’s listed Husband Name/Wife Name. Since Mike is dead, the school wanted to be respectful of my wishes – should I be mentioned singularly in that section (no mention of Mike), or as Husband/Wife with an asterisk noting Mike’s passing.

Honestly, it didn’t matter to me. But I appreciate the college asking my preference. It would have been weird (and maybe even disturbing) to see his name in print if I didn’t know in advance. It’s nice to have attended a small college where this kind of thing is noticed and opinions are sought before publication.

BTW, I opted for the Husband/Wife listing with the asterisk.

Wanting a dad

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Ethan and I were listening to music and talking about our days yesterday on the drive home from school. Out of nowhere he said, “Mommy, you really need to go out on a date.”

“What?” I asked. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, I need a dad,” he said. “I really want a dad.”

“It’s just not that easy,” I said, holding back the tears behind my oversized sunglasses.

“It should be,” he said, matter-of-factly. Then he went on to talk through the Pokemon powers of Jigglypuff or some other weirdo creature.

Heart. Broken.

I know the kid desperately misses his dad – well, not the dad he had in the last few years, but the kind of man who will take him camping and fishing, will spend time explaining “boy stuff” to him on a rainy afternoon, will teach him how to fix things around the house, will play ball with him in the backyard. He misses the idea of a dad, since Mike really didn’t (couldn’t) do any of those things with him.

This conversation raised some questions that I need to sort out. I’ve talked about how I’ve contemplated dating as a widow, but now there’s a larger consideration – when and how would I introduce someone to the kids.

Great, another thing to think about…

His Death is Real

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Know what makes death real?

Reviewing the computer-generated image of the tombstone, or as they call it “cemetery memorial.”

The cemetery gave me a choice of two memorial companies for Mike’s tombstone. I went with the local one – they do everything in same small town as the cemetery. Seemed nice to support a local business that keeps jobs in the community and has been around for 60+ years.

The woman who answered the phone was very nice. I explained what I wanted – simple, cost-effective, not flowery or over designed. Just his name and dates. No chiseled angels or flowers. No fancy shape. No “best dad and husband ever!” Just tombstone-y. Basic.

We settled on a grey stone (cheapest option) with no special carving. Since it was a single grave (meaning, I didn’t buy plots next to him), it was actually much less than I anticipated. Of course, like everything in this death business, there’s a hidden fee. In this case, a $300 cost for  the “foundation” – it’s a cemetery requirement, not even sure what it is, but it’s not negotiable. The sketchy thing is that unlike paying for the grave plot (paid to the city) or the tombstone (paid to the mom-and-pop company), the foundation payment is due to some dude – not a corporation, just a dude.

This whole thing can be done by email and snail mail. Crazy. The company just sent the image by email. Of course, there’s a mistake. Mike’s date of birth is wrong. My fault. Thank goodness for seeing the proof!

Still, even with the wrong date, there’s something final about it. Something more than going to his showing or the funeral mass or burying him. Seeing the image of a grave marker with his name and his dates makes this very, very real. And final.

Little Things

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Know what’s awesome?

I was able to get Lauren up and dressed this morning. Made her breakfast. Fixed her hair. Packed her lunch. Took her to “baby school” (she goes to daycare two days a week). Let her walk as s-l-o-w as she wanted to her classroom without having to hurry her along. THEN I drove to work. And through it all, I never felt rushed or nervous about being late to the office.

New job allows me the flexibility to actually do “mom things.” I think I’m going to like this… I hope I’m going to like this (you know, when students arrive on campus and I actually have to WORK)!