Funeral Number Two

 November 22, 2016 was my son's funeral. December 3, 2016 was a friend's funeral. Our relationship was one that many could not understand. She was married to my ex-husband and through the years she and I became friends. She passed away on the same day that my son died.

As my two grandchildren and I drove up to the parking lot of St. Joan of Arc church, I could tell by the cars in the parking lot that it would be a large funeral.

The entry was filled with men in dark suits and women in heels plus everything in between. Two large picture boards representing my friend's life, a book to sign, a program letting me know who would be involved in the mass were on a table. The memory cards showing her as a young nurse and with a prayer to St. Anthony, who was her favorite saint, were in a basket for anyone who wanted one . She had named one of her sons, Anthony, in honor of St. Anthony. The pictures on the boards, which I helped prepare, let everyone get a glimpse of what her life had been.

The fluffy white clouds on a blue sky behind the altar gave me a feeling of being in heaven. I have attended mass at the church but do not remember the beautiful back drop. In front of the altar were three bouquets of flowers, my friend's picture and the urn. The urn was a pot created by my son and I had never seen it. A warm feeling entered my body as I looked at the urn and knew that my son's hands had made the pot. How happy he would have been to see his pottery being used for his remains and for my friend's remains. A few years ago, another close friend used one of my son's pottery as an urn also.

Fr. Nathan, the pastor at St. Joan, celebrated the mass and the pianist sang Amazing Grace, Ave Maria, I Can Only Imagine and Wind Beneath my Wings during the mass. The readings were read by  her younger brothers. My daughter and son-in law carried the gifts to the altar and a brother gave a eulogy about her life growing up. I did not know she had played softball and moved to Colorado because she enjoyed skiing. "In Colorado she met the love of her life in a young soccer player and never returned to Missouri, her home town." Her degree was in nursing and she retired from St. Joseph's Hospital in Denver. After mass everyone was invited to a reception at Sons Of Italy Hall in Wheat Ridge, Colorado.

The delicious food of a mixed tossed salad, seasoned roasted chicken, marinated beef, whipped  potatoes, and cookies for dessert fed over 125 guests. I met new people, talked to friends from my past, saw family members, and enjoyed doing what I enjoy; photographing many of the guests!

Some of the persons I talked with came from South Carolina, Kentucky, Missouri and California and they all had come to bid their farewells. It was a beautiful service in a beautiful church and a wonderful reception with family and friends. I am sure my friend would have been pleased with her husband, her handsome sons, many members of her family and friends who had gathered to wish her a fond farewell.

Rest in Peace, lovely lady.

"That we once enjoyed and deeply loved

we can never lose,

for all that we love deeply becomes part of us."

Helen Keller