Chapter 10 - The Funeral

Losing a child is an unspeakable, suffocating horror. It is one I can’t even begin to explain. I could not breath. I could not believe he was really gone, even though I knew he was. I was screaming constantly inside. I couldn’t stop crying. Not even for a minute. None of us could. My neighbors later told me that they found Jeff wracked in tears and clutching the blanket to his face that I had made for Nate as he paced up and down the back yard. I left the hospital a day or two early to find our home inundated with flowers. Letters from people I barely knew were coming through the mail. People we expected to be right there by our side disappeared and never spoke with us again. But others came out of the woodwork to take their place. It is amazing what a tragedy can bring out in people. Especially the ones you think you know!

Funeral arrangements had to be made. Jeff and I met with my parents and aunt and uncle. Dad and Uncle Tony were terrified at the costs involved. When a parent dies, there is money or an insurance policy to cover some or all of the cost. When an infant dies, there is nothing. Uncle Tony mentioned that there was space in the lots my grandparents were buried. Oh what a sweet thought! They would look after him. However, Jeff and I decided that cremation would be better for us. If we had to let him go, we would scatter his ashes. For some reason, Jeff gets attached to funeral homes. So we contacted a local funeral home we had visited many times and that Jeff had liked. Imagine our surprise when we were told that they offer their services for free in cases like this! My father breathed a sigh of relief.

There is so much I don’t remember about this. I vaguely recall picking out a simple urn for his ashes. My son. My son was going in that box. Thankfully there wasn’t too much for us to do ourselves. The funeral home offered a chapel for a visitation and an organist to play music during the service. It was to be a memorial. Our doctor’s midwife offered to sing and my parents and she helped to write something up. My husband’s pastor called on the phone to insist he conduct the services. None of us could agree to that after his visit to the hospital shortly before Nathan died. Instead, my father suggested a customer of his who was a pastor at another church. He was a Lutheran pastor, which my father thought would be appropriate since Jeff was a Lutheran at that time, even though we are all Catholics. Pastor Kovacs was happy to officiate and knew my doctor’s midwife well. So all was set. The only thing I asked was for Pastor Kovacs to read the eulogies as no one would be able to do so; and that the organist play Brahm’s lullaby. We opted for a private service because none of us were prepared to face the world. My sister Angie took me to get some of the photos blown up and printed and framed. We ordered more flowers.

Then it happened. The children came to us en masse all in a panic. They wanted to see Nathan again. My greatest regret is that we didn’t bring him home and keep him here with us during this time. I should have also been there at his side when they cremated him. It’s too late for that now, but who would have ever thought that you had to plan these things in advance? It was the furthest thing from my mind. Everything else had been so carefully planned out. I even had a birthday cake in the freezer that we were going to eat the day he was born. I never did that with any other child. Anyway, we called the funeral home. It wasn’t too late.

We packed the kids in the car and went to see our son one last time. They brought him to us wrapped in his blanket and wearing the socks and handmade shirt we had dressed him in at the hospital before he died. We held him and cried. I finally got a chance to check out his little body. Ouisa finally held him and cried because she had been too scared to hold him at the hospital. All I could say to my son was how sorry I was. He was a perfect little boy. And he was dead.

The memorial service was beautiful. We held it on a Sunday around noon so that the home would be empty. My sons sat next to me and held me up when I slumped over during the lullaby. My brother was on time for something for once. Our midwife sang with the voice of an angel and Pastor Kovacs service was empathic, supportive, and touching. I couldn’t handle any more and was the first to leave, carried out by my doctor and midwife. We went home. Soon the rest of the family arrived and my aunt and uncle went to work setting up food for everyone.

I know there were people who felt hurt and left out because we insisted on a private service. My hope is that they understood how painful it was for us. Their support was amazing. A group of women at my husband’s church went to work cooking for us. My neighbor came and cried with me and fixed supper for us every night for a week. When I finally got a chance to sit down and thank her for what she did for us I explained how badly I felt because there was no way to repay a kindness like that. Sure I could fix her supper for a week, but it would be anywhere near the same. Judie then said the words I will never forget: "You can't. So you pass it on. We had a family tragedy 10 years ago and someone did this for us." Hearing those words was a life changing experience for me. Pastor Kovacs called to check up on me too. “I don’t know what to do with myself anymore”, I told him. “My sole purpose in life was to love, nurture, feed, and raise this child. Now he’s gone and I have nothing to live for anymore.” “That’s normal”, Pastor said. Well, it was a blessing to hear that, but waiting it out was hard. So I did the only thing I could do. I cried. I cried add day every day and then some. Within 3 weeks I was back into my pre-pregnancy jeans.