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Truly Miraculous – I’m A Witness
I want to share with you my personal experiences at the Holy Love Ministries Shrine in North Ridgeville, Ohio. I’ve encountered so much supernatural phenomenon, that I need to write them chronologically. I first heard of the shrine in November of 2005. At the time my mom had a church group meet at the house every Thursday. After a meeting, and all 25 people had left, I noticed a booklet. It had a picture of the Sorrowful Mother statue on the cover. It was for the Holy Love Shrine in North Ridgeville. As I read over this very complex, in-depth booklet, filled with messages to the visionary from Mother Mary, I knew I should visit. Once I read about Mary’s promises to all visitors and the blessings bestowed upon them, I knew I must go. Mother let all ‘pilgrims’ know what they may or may not experience at the holy site. One may be healed, see statues come alive, witness miracles in the sky, photos taken may reveal the unseen. I was excited to go and made arrangements with my sister to head up there (about an hour away) right before Thanksgiving.
November 2005 – First Pilgrimage
The shrine has many stations along a huge rosary-shape path, and Mother Mary has asked each pilgrim to stop at each station, usually denoted by a statue. Mary asks that one read or pray at such station to obtain graces given. Because you are to be prayerful, my sister and I distanced each other, to remain private in our prayer. I had the booklet/guidebook, and I could not find the third statue. I looked, so did my sister, until I realized how far – literally off the beaten path it was. To complicate matters, the gray/white November sky blended with the white of the statue – which rests ATOP of the wood arbor some 60 feet or more off of the path. (See the blog photo at the top of the article) It also is extremely close to the visionary’s’ home. We arrived there and prayed and continued on. It started to gently snow as we progressed along the large acres’ wide rosary shaped trail. As we forged our way back toward the visitors’ center (at this time the current visitors center, chapel, and other structures were not in existence. The center was the red pole building near the entrance- a great distance away), I was trying to get my bearings as to how far we were from my Jeep. Because of the weather, as far as I could tell, my sister and I were the only visitors outside on the property. She trailed me by some 25 feet. I could see far in the distance, at least 200 feet away, the arbor statue of Mary. It was easy to spot, for her vibrant blue robe high atop the wood structure, stood out against the bleak white/gray of the snowy sky. I kept walking back towards the parking lot, as we would pass by the statue on our return. For a split second I thought “Wasn’t that white?” but dismissed it, as I was trying to pray, and put my head down as I walked. But then – it happened. As soon as we came close to the proximity of the arbor – without leaving the path to head directly to the statue, I looked up at the statue. The statue was such a vibrant blue that it was almost a smudge of color. I thought “Wait a minute! It was white!” No sooner the thought when I felt a huge tug yanked from my left pelvis area. I let out a “Oww!” And at that instance I knew I was sick, but I’m not anymore. I was a little frightened, but kept my pace, I looked back and my sister was walking with her head down. I looked at the statue still radiant blue. As you may assume, the statue holds a special place for me. At each visit I give a sincere thank you and have taken up photographing the arbor statue out of gratitude. For who knows what Mother removed from my body. I assumed a cancerous growth. Either way I was healed.
This picture was taken on a visit with an acquaintance. I had taken a few with my phone, for me and we continued on the path. Later that evening, I remembered to look at the photos, and there in a series, was this great circular ray around mother! Of course, I couldn’t wait to share with my family and the acquaintance who attended with me.
This picture taken on a summer visit during Covid. A storm was brewing. The clouds parted, but I did not see the “Host” in the series of photos I had taken, until I looked several days later. In the series of shots, the “Host” enters from the right until it comes into her center. Mary describes seeing the certain “Host” colors in your pictures to denote meanings. This is a photo of a photo, but the true color is purple. Purple means ‘passion.’ I was there after hearing of bad news.
God The Father, Jesus And The Saints Visit The Shrine
Jesus often appears on the property and Mary often brings other Saints with her to the shrine. Busloads of people come to witness these events. We were there at a Midnight appearance of Saint Joseph on his feast day. Hundreds of people were there. I noticed throngs of people filming the night sky with their phones. We look up and see only the moon and stars. People are starting to shout, and we can see they are ‘chasing’ something with their screens. I get out my phone and focus on the moon. Though it was fixed in sky with our naked eye, through our cell lens it was zipping all over the night sky! You could not follow it – it was zigzagging all over. My male friend, a non-Catholic, became frightened and will not return.
Cloud Formations
Another wonderous sign known at the site, are the miraculous cloud displays. I made a trip in April of 2020, after learning some disappointing news. Since it was a mid-day weekday, only a handful of visitors were on the property. I needed answers from Christ and guidance. As I made my pilgrimage to the various stations and shrines, still distraught, I found myself in the “Field.” This is the place where many Marian visits take place. On special occasions Jesus will appear. In my grief, I looked up at the sky to appeal to God. In rapid formation, billows of clouds formed a crystal-clear image of the Pieta. There was no mistaken this, not some vague depiction, which could be this, might be that, no this was the Michelangelo that we know and admire. Because of my sorrow, I told Jesus that it wasn’t enough to console me. In response that quickly scrambled and immediately formed the picture-perfect, full-bodied image of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I understood then that Jesus and Mary were trying to comfort me.
So many visitors give their testimonies, leave prints of their wonderous photos, Mary has promised so many graces given by Jesus and God to those who prayerfully visit. I cannot begin to tell you that I was always a believer. But after my miracle, now I know that God is real. That Jesus is real. That the Saints do exist. If you can – go there. Mary has said that Holy Love is our Lourdes Shrine.
Don’t Buy Into Think And Grow Rich, Nor The Power Of Positive Thinking Nor Rich, Dad, Poor Dad!
I’m going to tell you the harsh truth. Never, ever pursue your dreams UNLESS you have fulfilled the following (see below article) criteria. If you squawk and attempt anyway here’s the short list of what will undoubtedly happen: you will fail. You will never make money, in fact the years chasing your dreams, could have been the earning years – yes, punching a timecard, yes, doing what you hate.
Do Not Attempt To Follow Your Dreams/Goals UNLESS You Meet These Criteria:
A) You Have Support
This may come in many forms; emotional/physical usually from your parents or grandparents. Or in the fairy tale form of a wealthy, childless benefactor. Someone who is dedicated in encouraging you, believing in you, guiding you and spending time with you. Taking you to and fro – without complaining. And hopefully funneling money into…
B) Education
Not the grade school/ high school variety. Not the local vocational school. You need lessons, whether it be creative – music, arts or practical – business, construction, you must have a higher education. You had better start early. You need all of the lessons, recognition, fearlessness at the youngest age possible. College, university, graduate school, more than a bachelors in something. You need a full-on master’s or several degrees to be impressive and command your area. Why? See next line.
C) Networking
With the support of A) your parents, etc., in addition to B) all of your extracurricular activities honing your craft or interests, combined with the wallop of an extensive higher education – all this leads to exposure. With this attention, from teachers, local admirers and for this article’s sake a letter of introduction from your benefactor – comes connections. If there’s enough financially invested, purchase a headhunter. This consummates into a ‘deal.’ A real Bonafide position in your choice of field. Make no mistake ALL of these are crucial to true financial and critical success.
D) Extrovert – Not Introvert
Waiting to be ‘discovered’ does not ever happen. You must be an extrovert. With the must-haves of A), B), and C) even the most introspective author, artist, musician or philosopher child prodigy will have the confidence and security to effortlessly present themselves. This perfect storm will seize success.
Where Is Talent?
Notice that talent is not on the list. Why? Shouldn’t that be first? Without a modicum of talent, how does one succeed? Have you forgotten that other old adage – practice makes perfect? If there is even a mustard seed of attention given to one subject; repeat this over time and you become an expert. Ask anyone who punches a timecard. They do the same job day after day and they too are an expert. So, it goes with talent. Is it not often said “a little talent goes a long way?”
Don’t Quit Your day Job – Get A Real Job
There is a reason why these phrases were coined. That reason? They are WISE. Learn from them. The world is not your oyster. Do not dismiss this, I’m parting wisdom upon you. Heed it. You must be pragmatic. Do not set yourself up for failure. Slow and steady wins the race. Work at what is practical in your part of the country. Keep contributing to your companies 401K or equivalent. Yes, you will always be a worker ant, never climbing up the ladder. But something happens after decade upon decade of working. Slowly but surely, you start to acquire things. Material things for sure like a home, a car maybe three, a motorcycle, a boat, jewelry, savings. It wasn’t want you anticipated for your life. But I’m sure you’ve heard the term “starving artist”? How many of those do you know? I know plenty. And I do not want you to be among them.
Yes, even your sisters…
What no one is talking about. What you won’t hear out loud. The backstabbing. The bad-mouthing. The conspiring. The phoniness. The pretense. The usury. The jealousy. The envy. The hatred. Why? Because women are competitive. They are enraged when outdone, even more so when it’s inadvertent. Be warned.
JELLY
Women co-workers, yes even those who you hang with on weekends and especially those with whom you luncheon together are right at this very moment-trying to get you fired. And it’s over that extra quarter an hour you make more than they do. It’s true; you’ve been alerted.
What about your life-long childhood friends? Remember those periods where you drifted apart and lost touch. Did that same friend keep in correspondence with others? Did they have outings and get-togethers? I’m willing to bet on it. You were excluded-most likely for the following reasons. Depending on if you are younger – you weren’t attractive enough: out of fashion/frumpy. And if you are not a magnet for men – they want nothing to do with you. They want women who will help them snag more men. It’s a sworn truth. If you are older: you lost weight and are now too attractive. You have too much – i.e., a good-looking man (immediate woman friend/sister killer), higher income, better car, own too many things (which they do not own). Ultimate instant woman friend fury- you have attractive, single men friends – whom you go out with and talk about it later.
Male Friends ARE Better
Having male friends are far better than having women friends. Male friends are just that. Men who are friendly, inclusive and genuine. If you are fortunate enough to have physically attractive men as friends, who have their own homes, several cars or trucks, motorcycles and the like- you are a TARGET of outrage from your so-called ‘women friends.’ They absolutely hate you passionately. They still want to connect with you in hopes of being invited to meet your male friends. How many times have they already asked? Worst yet, when you did introduce them – did your female friends suddenly ignore you? I’ll place money on it. If these men are co-workers, I’m throwing a dart that before your friendship was solidified, these same females either tried and failed to forge these same male friendships, or the male friends weren’t receptive. But once discovered, now these women want to be in your circle, too. But…they’ve approached these men without you. Your male friends let you know, most likely chuckling about it, not your women friends. There is a reason for it. Jelly- jealousy.
You Have What They Don’t And They Don’t Want YOU To Have It Either
If you are in a relationship, either established or blossoming- watch out. That nice acquaintance, schoolmate, best friend, favorite cousin or longtime co-worker will try to wreck it. Even your sister. They will flirt, proposition, try to corner him alone, sneakily ask for his number, try to pry information from him in an attempt to have secret knowledge. Or – the polar opposite, they mock YOU. You-with a good-looking man? Who are you kidding? Since when? Where did you meet him? He’ll never want you! If he has handsome friends, now you are in deep. These women are going to hound you, because you have discovered what they have been searching for. And they won’t have that. Suddenly, your inundated with inquiries about what you’re doing this weekend. Is so-and-so coming? As a test, let your female friends in on that yes, you are going out with the male group. Be careful not to invite nor give the time/place. If they call/text, get back hours later or even better, the next day. Elaborate on the awesome fun you had, give specifics. Afterall, have these same female friends invited you anywhere? Did you have to buy their tickets/dinner/gas/ride? How many times were you the instigator the designated driver? Did these women come to pick you up? Did these ‘friends’ help you move? Get a better position? Buy your way? Call you if you were ill?
Are You Aging Better?
It’s a thing. I had an ‘old friend’ repeatedly tell me – every single time she’d see me- that I ‘looked tired. Do you feel tired?’ Finally, I said something to her via text. She back peddled. I was disturbed by it and went to an acquaintance. I asked this woman, whom I had a rapport with, but still do not know her last name-what she made of this. Her response: “Are you aging better than she is? It’s a thing.” I had no idea that this could even be a topic. But as she delved into this, I came to the realization that I must be aging more gracefully. This was solidified when a male mechanic I see yearly, was astounded when he heard my age. His actual words were “How is that even possible?” I told him that there’s a special place in Heaven for him. A few days later I met up with that same insulting female friend. I wanted to tell her about his extreme compliment, but I did not think it necessary to wake up the sleeping dogs. To my female readers – watch your back, your women friends sure are.
Footnote: Over time, I’ve told several ‘women friends’ about this blog. Not one of them ever even asked what it was called, nor how to find it!
The Dead Appear In Dreams To Communicate The Needs Of Their Souls
Shortly after the burial of my mother, I tried once again to sleep. As in the prior months after her death, I would pray before bed. Just as I prayed for her soul as she was actively dying, I prayed every chance I had throughout the day, too. Only the precise instance she died, a distinct change occurred. A switch was hit. A fervor ceased. A realization that my prayers, my faith, my confidence had no bearing. I had no sway, no pull, no influence on God. I continued to pray regardless, but my conviction, my enthusiasm was no longer present.
Mom Appears
This time as I slept – and like prior dreams of Holy Souls In Purgatory; these happen just before waking- I was in my childhood home. It was as it appeared years ago, before my parents remodeled. Yet I was as I am now. Dad was there frantic, waiting for the ambulance. Mom was in another room, unseen but needed help. I stepped outside the house, for the paramedics had arrived. A team entered, I watched from the grass. I sensed that they couldn’t find her. Dad opened the door and said she’s missing; they can’t locate her. I needed to start looking. I turned to face our large property. As I ran down our small hill past our outbuildings, I seen her. She was standing at the foot of another hill leading up to our bank barn. Suddenly I was in front of her. She appeared as I remembered her in her 40’s. She had on a white short sleeve blouse and dark blue slacks. I was trying to tell her she needed to come back to the house. She needed to go to the hospital, to come inside. She shook her head. It was as though; she was bursting while shaking her hands ‘no.’ She was excited, smiling without parting her lips. I was too busy trying to coax her back, that I didn’t have the presence to ask her if she needed anything from me to help free her soul from purgatory. Then it happened. She took off running at lightning speed. Up the hill and over it. By the time I ran after her, the last glimpse I seen was her already up our neighbors’ massive hill and disappearing in their wood line. I was yelling for her as I came down our barn hill and onto our neighbor’s yard. Their yard too, was decades earlier. I looked to my right, and a woman stood a distance away in what once was a garden. She had a hoe in her hands. I did not recognize her. I asked if she seen my mom. Out of nowhere a huge gray dog was near her. I knew that I was in trouble. I sensed that this gray dog would attack me. As I turned opposite, the dog was in front of me. He leapt at me. I fell onto my back. His huge jaw on top of me coming to clamp down on my face. I instantly woke. I knew it was a visit; I missed my chance to ask her what more she needed to be released from purgatory. I also was aware that I could not pursue her. I think the dog was a hound of heaven and was making it clear that I could not enter nor chase after her.
My Sister
She died just two months after Mom. Our Priest had given her the Apostolic Blessing, which I took as a ‘get out of purgatory free card.’ Turns out it wasn’t. I prayed for her several times daily. But I was not focused on her soul’s well-being, because of the pardon. One day, three months after her death, I became somewhat concerned though. I prayed to Mother Mary, my special intercessor and asked if she was indeed, okay – just in case. And several days later a strange dream happened. I was in the basement of my childhood. So, that we are clear, this is a 225-year-old farmhouse. The basement is rocky, gray, crude and no matter how many lights are on, still it casts shadows. I was there, again as I am now. The light bulb was dangling. It was heavily shadowed, mom was there by the light, this time she looked as she had before she died. She stood by an open book resting on a stand, she gestured at the book. I approached the book, put my head down and said, ‘My poor sister!’ I stepped away and lying on the floor were dying, malnourished newborn kittens gasping for air. As I took another step, I seen what I thought was a shaggy matted feral barn cat I have. Although askew, it resembled my cat with the sandy tones, orange and black, it was eating out of a bowl. Then it did something amazing. It stood on its hind legs, but as it did so it grew to my height. It walked on two feet into the shadows. I woke. But I couldn’t make any sense out of this dream.
Does She Need Help
Unsure, I went ahead and had more Masses said for both mom and our sister. But oddly I wasn’t too worried about her. So, about three weeks later, when the nagging reminder of the dream surfaced I prayed to Mother and asked, ‘Does she need help?’ And several nights later just before waking I heard distinctly my voice asking;” Does she need help?” and a loud reply in a woman’s voice said: “She needs help.” Boy did I wake up! I prayed more, gave alms and said a rosary. I procured Masses for her. Then three months later, I had THE dream.
Confinment
I found myself inside a huge, barely lit commercial industrial like building. It stretched multiple stories high which were recessed into the darkness and shadows. On the floor level were tight aisles with rows of small, closed-door closet like spaces. I was in front of one door. It was very dark, but I could make out what was around me. In front of the door, I called out my sister’s name. From inside that closet I hear a soft, ‘Yeah.’ I opened the door, and she literally fell into my arms. I held her as she curled up in my lap. And I awoke, greatly disturbed. I started praying more, but my spark, my certainty had gone. How could I help her?
My Priest
Four months later, uncertain if my efforts had helped her or Mom, I mustered the courage to talk to our Priest. I had been debating asking his advice for months. I was still at a disbelief over the Apostolic Pardon not assuring she had bypassed purgatory. The time came for me to ask; “Is it possible that a C-Student Catholic, possibly a D-Student, could have dreams where the dead appear needing my help?” He responded: “Yes. It’s our faith that we commune with the saints. Be confident that their salvation is assured. Their suffering is a separation from God, but they will be delivered.” I asked about the Apostolic Pardon – is it not the free pass I thought? “No, it is not a get out of purgatory free pass.” I told him that she’s not in a good place. He replied: “God works out of time and space. I may have seen where she WAS, but she is not there now.”
Church “Friends”
Father went onto say that both parishes (our area has combined local churches due to a shortage of Priests) have “Friends.” It wasn’t clear to me what “Friends” were. He said, “I prefer ‘friends’ to ghosts. At both churches I’ve heard voices, noises, actually several of us have. We are aware of them. What we can do is pray for them, offer alms, rosaries, our sufferings and Masses.”
Dry Prayer
Once he said this, I had to confess that all of my confidence in prayer, ended the exact moment mom died. He nodded instantly. He called this “dry prayer.” The only way to overcome it, he said, was to “keep praying.” By continuing on with my prayers, the diffidence feeling will subside. And one month later, it has. After a few more sacrifices, I will pray and ask for an update on my sister’s level of purgatory. I’m sure I’ll receive it. But first I must try harder to help her.
Footnote: After much discernment and yes, prayer, I finally came to the realization that the “animal” was in fact my sister. I recognized the resemblance. Her shaggy mane of blondish hair, the fact that she was a little taller than me, and I knew that the “cat-like animal” was female. Thus, Mom being present, too. During this prayerful period, I was reading about a Catholic mystic. She had seen souls suffering in purgatory who were “animal-like” and then I knew without a doubt, it was my sister.
Bring out your dead…and out come the wolves!
I found out the hard way; family doesn’t stick together once money – big or small is involved. All of the promises made by my siblings, their words given to me, meant nothing. They wanted their share. No matter that Dad is still alive and I’ve been taking care of my parent’s property, outbuildings, and any needs or wants prior to mom’s death. No, they “permitted” me to do these; while living their lives carefree, without thinking twice about who’s minding the store.
The Verbal Agreement
Over the decades, my older brother and sister repeatedly had told me that they both wanted me to have our childhood home. Afterall, they had families and homes of their own. They had each stressed all of the work, care, time and money that I had contributed to our parents’ lives. I of course, did this out of obedience both to God and my to parents. It is the fourth commandment.
Mom Died, Then My Sister
Once the initial shock of losing them both back-to-back, had begun to ease, Dad made an appointment with his senior attorney. I went with Dad. Not only did the will need to be totally redone, but all beneficiaries changed for life insurance policies, all titles such as house and cars needed to have a beneficiary named and a transfer upon death form completed. The same for all bank accounts, holdings, deposit boxes, etc. She wanted this done as soon as possible and gave him two weeks to execute this. Another thing the attorney stressed was the house. Unbeknownst to me, three years prior when mom and dad had their will done by this same attorney, an in-depth discussion ensued. And it revolved around me. For at that time, I had been giving mom one of my two-week paychecks. She needed it for her treatments. Her disease was rare called Pemphigoid, and her health care would not cover her care outside her network. And the specialist she needed was outside her care. At that point, she had received one thousand a month from me to cover her treatments, for the last three years. Mom had told me that she would apply this money to her ledger, and it would go against “buying out” my younger sister. For mom knew that she would not relent to my receiving the house without her due share. (I dismissed all of this. For I felt that mom and dad would live another decade or more. Why, because they had each other and I did most of the hard work. Also, my younger sister [by only a few years] had told me on several occasions that I should have the house. Thus, keeping it in the family.) Ironically, at this time period an old family friend was this attorney’s receptionist. This friend told me recently that the attorney, who rarely spoke her opinions to her staff, let everyone know how impressed she was. The fact that I helped my aging parents live their lives out in their own home, while doing all repairs and upkeep at my cost, plus helping mom survive. I won’t forget it, and neither did the attorney. I had never met her before this meeting, but she paused and said to dad that now we needed to talk about me.
How I Played A Major Role In The Will
During this time, my older sister was actively dying, though it was not immediately communicated to us. The attorney, who asked if any children were disabled, then learned of our oldest sister. She had a rare form of Alzheimer’s called Benson’s Syndrome. She would die two weeks later. Then the attorney went onto to say that the next order of business was to ensure that I get the family home. I did not yet know about the years earlier discussion with mom. Nor was I expecting a candid conversation about the ‘purchasing’ of the house from my siblings. I remained quiet. Listening to dad talk about how they all expected $50K each or $150K for the house, I became anxious. Yes, the house is worth an easy $450K, but I was told worst case scenario paying my younger sister $50K from my retirement savings. Again, when I retire, from my 401K earnings! We she asked me if I could do that, I then spoke up and said that my oldest sister and brother are foregoing their share, and I was expecting my other sister to follow suit. If she doesn’t, then mom said $50K for her. Dad said: ‘They may have said they wanted you to have it. Don’t count on it, people get funny when there’s a will.’
They Did Get Funny About Money
Almost instantaneously, my brother wanted his share, along with of course my younger sister. Once my older sister had died, then dad without hesitation, cut out her husband and son from the will. No possessions, nothing. Several trips back and forth to the attorney’s office. Many meetings with her team to sort out insurance payments, titles, transfer upon death forms. Dad was secretive about the doling out of their possessions. His closely regarded valuables, mom’s jewelry, heirlooms-were all pawns for him. One week this went to my brother, the next week, no. By cutting out my older sister, now everything was split three ways. Long ago it was decided by my parents to go by the taxes only, to keep the house purchase by me affordable. So the sum I needed to pay for each share? $66,667.00. You read that right…
Leverage
After receiving several nasty calls from my brother stating (without prompt or provocation) that he never said he was going to give his share to me. Just for him to do an about face here and there, I wasn’t sure who to trust. My younger sister couldn’t wait to shout: “I’m not getting screwed out of my inheritance!” That cemented it. I had to pay her. Meanwhile my deceased sister’s husband wanted to vouch for me. Her knew my sister had told him that she wanted to forgo her share for me. My cousin, second that. Word spread and my extended family learned of the drama over the will. Now, the attorney wanted a meeting to draw up a family agreement.
The Family Meeting
You could feel the chill. No one looked each other in the eyes. And as per usual, I had to pick my brother up and take him to the meeting. For years now, this had become a routine. But if he were to be a Judas to me – he can get his own ride! Dad said no. He claimed my brother was going to keep his word to me, though reluctantly. I had heatedly told dad the night before, if I was to be expected to pay out $134K, I might as well go to our nearest city. I could get two homes for that! No joke. I told him I’d move out and let my younger sister take care of him. For mom had told me at the most $50K for my sister. Thinking, for he knew the consequences, that he would wind up in a senior home, he became frightened. He told me later, that he called my brother and struck a bargain with him. If he kept his promise to me, dad would leave him his Model A, his tools, contracting equipment, guitar equipment and coin collection. But my brother demanded dad’s prized electric guitar, too. Dad would not relinquish the guitar, no that was dad’s leverage. Also, he proposed the $50K to my sister.
Back to the meeting, when the attorney asked if my brother wanted his share, he quietly said; “No.” Thank God. Now onto my sister. For clarification, there are seventeen barn cats on the property. I’ve taken care of them, too. Some are feral. All but one have been neutered or spayed. The oldest at that time was 17 years. She used them as collateral as leverage to get what she wanted. Extortion. It was ugly. She looked at the attorney and said, “I’ll take the $50,000 if she takes all but two of the cats to a no-kill shelter. What’s it going to be. The cats or the house?” I was not expecting such a low, manipulative, evil, disgusting, heartless blow from my own sister, who I doted on in her life. She’s sick, a bi-polar off her meds by her own admission. It was despicable. I stood up, I told her that she was not to touch those animals. I was ready to walk. I meant it. The attorney shouted for me to sit down. She said this is easy to rectify. You will pay her upon your father’s death $66,667.00. My sister smugly agreed to this.
Not Too Fast – Still Greedy
The attorney would get back to us in approximately 3 weeks, papers drawn each of us were to sign and it was written in stone. Oh, no. Three months went by, why? Because my brother and sister were bickering over the phone. My brother wanted to know why she was so greedy. They could each have received $33,000 from me. She took offense and called the attorney! She told the attorney that my brother needed his share! She stirred up more trouble. So, when I thought, I was going to sign the final papers, I was met with the question of buying my brother out for another $66.667.00! So $134K of my retirement. The answer was no. I stood up and said I’m done. She asked me to step out of the room while she spoke to dad. Later I was called in. Dad would add more of his savings to brother’s tally. This he felt, would level the shares. After we left, I let dad know that if they did not sign this agreement in the next two days, I was pulling out, moving out and I could care less. I meant it. Oh, they beat feet to sign it.
At What cost?
All of this to fulfill my promise to mom to keep it in the family. All this so I could leave it to my deceased sisters’ grandson. All of this nonsense so my dad could stay in his home. For I am just the curator, the steward, the target of contempt. This is a cautionary tale for you, please learn from it.
I Was In No Hurry To See Their Names On Granite
Nor was Dad. Yes, it took 10 months to make the necessary decision to purchase their headstone markers. Bear in mind, we had to get through all of the legalities first. It not only involved making necessary calls to the likes of life insurance companies, banks, social security, doctor offices and hospitals. More time consuming was the transfer of titles; the house, the cars, the safety deposit box, plus naming new beneficiaries. Then there was the claiming of the life insurance policies, which involved a senior attorney. This cascaded into a 5 month long will revision and family agreement. The will was a drawn-out ordeal. It was horrendous and is the focus of an upcoming post.
The Time Had Come
After letting the dust of the will settle and subside, it became apparent that we must choose a headstone for mom. For any longer a wait would become disrespectful. Months ago, my brother-in-law decided that whatever we chose for mom, he would follow suit for my sister’s headstone. We had received several postcards from a local memorial company. God knows how they received our information. I had learned during the funeral process that from one funeral home to another, when pricing a traditional funeral, the final cost is consistent. One just needs to get the job done. With this mentality, I made the appointment. When the receptionist answered, she asked me a few screening questions. The first was if the marker was for the living or deceased. I had not realized that some have the foresight to plan.
Monument Appointment
Many months before Mom died, in fact she was not at risk of dying, she discussed purchasing the opening/closing of our family plots. Just two years prior, we had purchased eight plots in our church cemetery. After purchasing the opening/closing costs, she wanted to then work on a monument. She liked the idea of a bench with the family name on it. I had told her that we should do that in the Spring with my tax return. Now, choosing the headstone for her, I had let dad know of her wishes. Dad was leery that the bench would be too costly.
Monument Office Visit
At our appointment, I took note of how informal the atmosphere appeared. Our senior representative, and his colleague were both dressed very casually. No one spoke in hushed tones. Once again, as with the funeral home visit, a potential customer just walked in and inquired about a grave marker. As with that prior incident, the customer was encouraged to schedule an appointment. Once inside the office, the first order of business; choosing the stone. The stone choice determines the price. I explained that mom loved her Irish heritage, and I thought that a green stone with gold lettering would be a real tribute to her. Quickly, he shot that down. Green stones were some of the most expensive, hard to acquire and gold lettering extremely high priced. He quickly pointed to a pink stone color (their most popular price). I’ve seen that many times at our cemetery. They can keep it. I liked the next tier scheme of blue/gray/red/black mix. Dad did, too. From there he immediately went over the standard shape for a double monument. Dad had wanted a shared marker. The thickness of the marker 8 inches down to 6 inches, the width 42 inches trimmed to 36 inches and the base from 48 inches cut to 42 inches would significantly affect the pricing. Also built into the price, but provided by our cemetery, was the foundation concrete footer. This footer is poured three foot deep 18 inches wide, with the length determined by our final headstone choice. These footers are also grouped with other orders, and when enough are filled a contractor then pours the foundations. The wait is usually 4 to 6 months. Right about the same time as our stone would be finished; after our art approval and payment.
Pricing!
Being proficient on the design program, our rep quickly filled in our contact information and on a large 3-foot screen began to design some marker concepts. Initially in grays, he added Mom’s name and dates, then dads. He zoomed in and out, repositioned until he pleasantly displayed all. He explained that built into the cost, any artwork designs could be added. Since we our Catholic, I asked about a Crucifix. He had about six different renderings, but I liked the Traditional one. He effortlessly put one in the center. Knowing that mom was Irish, he also suggested a shamrock in the corner above her name. Then came the pricing $7600.00 plus tax and $1200.00 for the footer. It was then that I mentioned mom wanting a bench which would have been even higher. But lo and behold, our rep said otherwise! It actually would be much lower, with little compromise. Quickly he made a new draft, same stone, same type style, same lettering, same art but now more room to put all of the siblings first names! After he put the final touches on the new concept, he colorized it with our stone and voile! The price was $5600.00 plus tax and $1200.00
Sold
We were very pleased, especially to get what mom wanted and the price was exceptional. From there we started the concept for my sister’s stone. Though my brother-in-law was paying for hers separately, he asked that we choose it. For she is buried directly behind mom. They died 10 weeks apart. For hers, the process was much quicker, since stone, shape, thickness, type were all chosen prior. When it came to the art, I asked about a Mary image. Again, he had several, but one with her head, shoulders and praying hands with Rosary really stood out. Our rep made it work. It’s beautiful. And the cost $3900.00 plus tax and $1000.00 for the footer. My brother-in-law approved it. He scheduled his own appointment for payment. While there, he also had his name engraved on the back side. For our plots are in the shape of the Cross, so he will be buried behind my sister. All is paid for, so come Spring, footers will be poured. Shortly thereafter, their headstones will be installed, with a small blessing ceremony by our Priest.
Eternal rest grant unto them oh Lord. And let perpetually light shine upon them. May they rest in peace, amen. May their souls and all the faithful departed through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.
The Odor Of The Dying
Once you are hit with the scent of the actively dying, you’ll never forget it. I’ve tried to come up with some comparison, to give you an idea of the stench. I’ve decided that the best description is the nauseating combination of hospital antiseptic blended with putrid festering infection.
Prior to the actively dying stage, I did not notice any odors coming from my mom nor sister. Once informed that they were dying, with only hours or day/days left to live, that changed. During the first few hours, I barely perceived a faint breath odor. As the hours passed, the stench started to cling to their persons. As the hours waned, and I moved back and forth from the waiting room to their beds, the smell became more pronounced.
I Kept The Comments To Myself Out of Respect
The stink quickly became repulsive. It started to cling to me. It reminded me of going to nightclubs where others cigarette smoke would cling to your clothes the next morning. Or how the stench of artificial fog from concerts would remain in your hair until you washed it away. Even my hands would reek of this curious putrid smell of my dying family members. Even after washing, I could still smell it. I never mentioned it though, until I let it slip to my brother-in-law. He told me a nurse had said it was due to the body shutting down. Infection takes over.
Stench Permeates The Rooms
Quickly, the smell overpowered my dying sisters’ room. Hers was an agonizing death, taking six days for her frail body to slowly starve to death. She had a rare form of early onset Alzheimer’s, called Benson’s Syndrome. Triggered by mom’s surprise stroke, my sister declined rapidly. She refused to eat or drink, sometimes becoming violent. Her dehydration led to infections, kidney failure, self-starvation and death. As she lay dying, unconscious from medications to ease her pains of death, her body emitted the queasy, noxious smells that filled her room. As soon as you entered her room there was no mistaking it. Once you moved closer to her face the more pungent it became. One would tolerate it though, because of the sadness of it all.
Mom’s death was swifter. Once the ventilator was removed, she attempted to breathe on her own for an hour. Then the gasping, the struggling for air, followed by the administering of ‘comfort care,’ drugs to help her die with minimal pain or discomfort. She lived for 24 hours. During this time family and friends rotated visits. A nurse told me mom was ‘Popular. She has more visitors than anyone. ‘ I was at disbelief. She went on to tell me that mom has had a constant stream of visitors and more flowers than anyone on the ward. During these in and out visits that’s when I first noticed the curious smell. It definitely was not as prevalent with mom as it was with my sister. But it was there, on her breath, on her hair. Later, when it was my sisters turn to die, I recognized it for what it was, the smell of the dying.
Long after I left the hospital, even days after their deaths, I could still smell that, dare I say, disgusting odor. I was using hand sanitizer; the scent was still there. Even after shampooing, still it clung. For me it took at least 5 days to rid myself of the scentof death.
Two months After Mom
You really do just go through the motions. I trudged through work and didn’t speak of it. At night I gathered as many photos as possible of her that I had. Prior to her death, I gave my brother-in-law the phone number of mom’s funeral director. This way, we could just do a repeat of her funeral. My sister would have liked that. In fact, just two months prior, she was with Dad and I at the funeral home while we made mom’s arrangements. The funeral director was aware of her condition. I explained to my BIL that this would make things easier. I met my BIL at the funeral home’s main location. The previous director greeted me with raised arms; “What happened?” Mom happened, and my sister rapidly declined. My BIL and I chose exactly the same casket and vault with the opposite complementary prayer card. I gave the director my copy of my sisters’ plot. Mom had the foresight two years ago to have us buy plots at our church cemetery. My BIL was going to have his niece help pick out my sisters’ burial clothes. It was hard for him to get through this, but what could I say? It was done. We just had to honor her. Once again, I had to write her obituary, and I needed to draft her eulogy. He agreed to ask the same women to read in our stead at the Mass funeral. The director excused himself while he called our priest to procure a Mass date and confirm that we could have the showing, Mass and burial and wake all in one day. He came back with two dates, the coming Friday or Saturday. I insisted on the Saturday, the 28TH. It would allow more to show, it was two days after her only son’s birthday, and it happened to be my birthday. It was perfect.
Funeral
Since Mom’s funeral was still fresh, we were accustomed to the procedures. I had made two photo boards (only one for the church parlor, the other for the Knights of Colombus Hall) and placed one in the Church. Then, I looked towards my sister’s casket. She was in her forest green dress with a white sweater. The sweater to hide her bone thin frame. Her jaw was clamped tight, only I knew it was due to her jaw being open. Her makeup was sparse, and had I known, I would have put eyeliner and mascara on her. So, I took lipstick and added color to her gaunt cheeks and color to her pale lips. One day earlier, by coincidence, my BIL’s sister knew the beautician appointed to set my sisters hair. She had attempted to lighten it blonde (because of my sister’s Alzheimer’s dementia she could not tolerate the procedure of lightening her hair) to cover the dark gray it had become. But, because of the cold storage it did not hold. And, as before, I was able to ask for a lock of her hair. I had cut a few strands in the hospital, but since the beautician trimmed her hair, now her son and husband could have some, too. Once again, her bangs were back like she used to wear it.
Visitation
Before the 10:00 A.M. opening, people started arriving. Soon I was called to stand at the head of her casket. I greeted her former classmates, parishioners, neighbors, colleagues, family and friends. Some 150 people were inline outside of the church waiting to give their condolences. I told my sister at every interval that she had done well. For I know that the dead are made to attend their funerals. They stand at the foot of their caskets. They wait for prayers. I prayed the Eternal Rest prayer and St. Gertrudes too. After some time, I looked to see out Priest standing near the foyer. I snuck up to him and asked if it was time for the Mass. At this point many more were still outside. He graciously said that we would wait until everyone was seated. One of her Catholic schoolmates mistook me for my sister, and another commented, that they, too were taken aback. Yet, another said: “She was sweet.” The funeral director assisted by my sister’s family member, a retired funeral director, helped turn her casket away from the crowd. Once turned, the director cranked the casket bottom and lowered my sister. He looked at me said; “Okay?” I nodded and he shut and locked her casket for Mass to begin. My BIL and nephew unfolded the mantle to cover her casket for Mass, and I followed the procession until taking my place in the pew.
Burial And Wake
After the Mass, easily 60 or more processed to the cemetery. Again, the brief ceremony of committing her body was performed at a holding place. For she was buried about 75 feet away right behind mom. Then as before we walked to the nearby hall for the luncheon. Easily 85 people attended as her grandchild ran around the hall playing with the toys I had brought. People mulled over her photo boards and conversed with each other, all talking about the turn out. Some had wandered over to Mom’s grave, too. Afterwards, my BIL called to talk about the amazing large turnout and that it probably helped that it was Saturday. He brought up the fact that it had spread around the church that it was my birthday, he didn’t realize. Yes, it was and it was perfect.
Benson’s Syndrome – Has Taken Her at Only 62 Years Old
Our oldest Sister has died, only two months after mom died. I was hoping that she would not decline, that if we did not speak of mom’s death, in essence it could be blocked by her dementia.
Her symptoms were spread out over a decade. She had aches and pains, then severe back pain, followed by poor eyesight. She was diagnosed with sciatica, the fibromyalgia, later cataracts. She was a grade schoolteacher, held a master’s degree. Seemingly one day, she started forgetting things. Her principal advised her to seek disability. About a year later she was approved and was put on disability. Then suddenly, she couldn’t operate her phone, nor navigate her TV remote. Mom and I insisted we take her to her doctor; we had a whole list of things to discuss. The hurdle was HEPA. After much cajoling, my brother-in-law allowed us access. Once there, my sister, barely walking at a snail’s pace could not even remember her birthdate. Her doctor revealed that a year prior, during an ER visit when she fell out of bed and ‘didn’t feel right,’ her scans revealed dementia. Mom and I were silent, not wanting to alarm my sister. She sat silently at that time she had a tick of smacking her lips. Finally, when asked she said that no one had ever told her that.
Fear Of Nursing Homes
Immediately, she became petrified of being put into a nursing home. I promised her that this would not happen, over my dead body and I meant it. After breaking the news to her husband, who claimed he was never told either, so mom and I got to work. We knew caregivers had to be put into place. She kept saying she did not want to be home alone, that if she knew she was going to lose her mind she did not want to live. Yes, it was awful.
Fidgeting Uncomfortable Repeating
Once home we researched the dementia diagnosis and prepared ourselves for the following weeks appointment. Mom agreed to watch her for the next weeks with dad until caregivers could be found. I was prepared to pay out of pocket, and I did so, until her needs became too great. Eventually all of her disability went to paying various caregivers. Early on, I took her to a counsellor. Afterall, what could I tell her about dying? During our research it became apparent that her lifespan was cut down by a third. We kept this to ourselves, knowing that upsetting news brought on hallucinations. She began seeing ants everywhere. My BIL went through the motions of insecticides to appease her. Her clothes itched or felt off. She couldn’t dress herself, nor bathe, nor brush her teeth. Make-up irritated her. She couldn’t find the toilet seat. Her stare was far off, never making eye contact but in the general direction.
Eating – Food For thought
Almost immediately I told her that she must eat. I told her “Food for thought” which she repeated. Mom was cooking breakfast and lunch for her, and we had hopes for 5 more years. By the time caregivers were onboard, she wanted to go out to lunch and shop, etc. It was costly for the first 4 months or so, but I was happy to keep her occupied. During that period, I cleaned her home a few times due to her inability. She grew accustomed to various caregivers, just wanting company. She always wanted visitors, anything to keep her mind preoccupied. The TV was on constantly; it was her crutch. She needed her little dog beside her for comfort. But eating became worrisome for us. She mostly refused her caregivers; she would only eat for mom and dad.
Benson’s Syndrome
A year later, for it took that long to get a neurologist appointment, she was finally diagnosed with Benson’s Syndrome. This rare disease affects the back of the brain, mainly sight, so that you cannot determine precisely what you are seeing. Also, it is early onset affecting those in their 50’s. She was 60 then. Looking back the symptoms started decades prior, so all of her ailments if strung together would have pointed to this. Once I looked into this and did some calculating, I knew we did not have long with her.
Mom
Mom’s unexpected stroke left me and my BIL with a decision to shield her of mom’s condition. Mom could not speak, and she talked to my sister several times daily on the phone. He covered for her, until it became clear that mom was dire. When mom was pulled off the ventilator and struggled to breathe, my BIL situated my sister as close as he could to mom’s side. Try as I might, I’ve retained the image of my sister trying to reach in the direction of mom, saying; “Mommy don’t leave me!”
Doomed
Afraid after the burial, that she would rapidly worsen and preoccupied with Dad, I tried to sparingly speak to her. Unbeknownst, due to her lack of eating and drinking, she had another UTI which had to be treated. It worsened and she was hospitalized for dehydration. When I visited her, she was starving, I fed her and I stayed there until she fell asleep. She came home for a few days, but had to go back in, this time for another infection and more dehydration. She never came home.
I Didn’t Realize She Was Dying
Still dealing with mom, helping dad and sorting things out, for Christmas was coming, I thought she would stabilize and come home. Afterall she just ate 1200 calories for me. The next day when I visited her in a different hospital room and she was unresponsive, a nurse told me that she was actively dying. She had hours maybe a day to live. I had no idea.
Missed Signs
On a prior visit, on a different ward, she was twitching jerking. I was told that was from lack of food. Starvation. They fed her with an IV to stabilize her. She pulled out her catheter twice. She had to be video monitored. On one occasion, when we were alone, she was sleeping. She roused and I became worried when see looked at the foot of her bed and said sweetly: “What’s your name? Oh, you’re not allowed to say.” I said, “Oh, no.” She replied: “what?” I said, “I didn’t want you to decline so soon.” I also told her of all the accomplishments she achieved. Her smiling reply: “No I didn’t!” Now, on the hospice ward, during which I fed her ice cream and candy, she paused and said: “Comfort Me!” She was distressed. I did my best and told her not to be afraid. She went back to jabbering nonsense, then once again panicked asked: “Comfort me!” I tried, but it did not cross my mind she was dying. Once the nurse told me, I cried. The nurse said she had been seeing children. My oldest sister who was so good at handling all of our family functions, orchestrating countless functions was dying of starvation. She was vivacious, social and compassionate. And it came down to me to tell everyone that she had hours or days to live. This was on a Sunday. Our priest who had already spent time with her on the other floor, came immediately. Later he told me he gave her the apostolic pardon. Her friends from out-of-state came. Her former husband, friends and extended family, too.
Lights Flickering
In her room a recessed light to her left started flickering. It wasn’t like that prior. It did this for an entire day, then righted itself. As with mom, I prayed as many rosaries as I could, and in Latin. I knew by this point that I could not move the mountain of God and concentrated on sparing her soul from penance. I whispered into her ear that she was a success. I told her that if she found herself in darkness, to look for the light. Call out to Jesus or Mary or Joseph. I repeated this for several days when alone with her. Again, as with mom, I noticed that several men could not stomach to see her. So, her visits with the men in her life were brief, usually 15 minutes at best. She never again was coherent. She was on medication and any agitation, grimace or leg movement warranted increasing her pain meds.
Six Days Later
My sister died six days later on her grandsons second birthday, at 1:20 A.M. My BIL called me at 1:30 A.M. He was at home when the nurse called him. He wasn’t going down to the hospital. I called my other sister and being upset; she wasn’t coming either. I woke up Dad, and he tried to dissuade me, too. I called the nurses station and asked if I could come. She met me at an entrance and granted me access. There my sister was in her dimly lit room at 1:55 A.M. Death is not pretty. Her mouth was open to her chest. She was sallow from starvation, and she was gone. Never again will I speak to her, nor will she enjoy her retirement, nor dote on her only grandson. I knelt by her bedside and sobbed. The nurse came in and said: “Oh, honey.” I stayed a half hour and prayed and paced and took pictures of her, for me. Michele, all of my days I will miss what could have been. May the Lord God in Heaven please take pity on the soul of my sister.
Funeral Home Visit
I drove my dad and sister to the funeral home of Mom’s choosing to make the arrangements. The funeral home was vacant, except for one lone car. We were greeted by a friendly, casually dressed Funeral Director. To my surprise the funeral home seemed to need some upkeep. The concrete steps needed repaired, paint was chipping, cloth awnings fading. Once inside the foyer, the oriental rugs were worn, carpet ornate but faded. The home was massive. He ushered us into a large, but vacant side office. He was very forward about the costs, which was very appreciated. There was no upselling, no pushy sales and no false sympathy. He also let us know that the funeral home provided the death certificates. He would get us three copies, the norm he said. If we needed additional to let him know. Any questions I could text him. He led us into a very small showroom of 8 caskets, samples of other models, visitation books, prayer cards, etc., while he went into another office. During that time he asked if we were expecting others as two men approached the main entrance. Surprised, I said no, and he met two men at the door. The Director explained that an appointment is preferred. These men in easily in their late 60’s, introduced themselves and explained that they were in the area and had some questions. The director stated that he was currently with an appointment and to return in about two hours. Afterwards, I thought, who in their right mind, would just randomly stop at a funeral home – in this day and age- just to ask questions? After we made our choices, I asked him if Mom was here. He explained that though he lived there, this was a satellite location and Mom was at their main home about 8 miles away. Later, when I explained this to dad, he was a little upset, as this location was only 3 miles from home.
Mom Pre-Planned
Mom had pre-planned her funeral, in the sense that she worked out almost 2 years prior with our parish Priest her choices. Mom picked all hymns and scriptures. She left notes in her office of her preference in casket (cherry) and her clothing. You even wrote a poem to be read for her eulogy. So, these things helped immensely. Also, she wanted the visitation, Mass and burial all in one day. This is a relatively new trend in our parish, but Mom really liked the idea. Also, thankfully about a year earlier, Mom and I had purchased 8 plots in our parish cemetery. Our Priest gave us a great deal and squeezed out enough plots for our immediate family. We were going to work on opening and closing costs in the spring when I got my tax return. When it came time to write the obituary and eulogy, the Director let me know that newspaper obituaries in our area are very expensive. For a modest in length obituary, for only one day, was $600.00. Regardless, we chose to have it in two of our local papers, as I wanted as many people as possible to attend her funeral. In the obituary I asked that in lieu of flowers, that any mourners please light a votive candle for her soul. Our parish has an exact replica of the Lourdes Grotto in France behind the church, which leads to the cemetery. Inside the grotto “cave” are approximately 100 votive candles to be lit for various causes and prayers. Later, by our estimation at least 30 candles were lit for the repose of her soul. Mom being of Irish decent, liked the idea of a wake, and the Knights of Columbus Hall is adjacent to the church, so immediately after internment, all were welcomed for luncheon. The church has a funeral dinner committee and dad made arrangements with them to purchase the food/drinks for 120 people. It was a great bargain at $1000.00, including the hall, courtesy of our brother-in-law, who is a Knight. All said and done, with opening/closing, funeral home services, obituaries and food it was just under $13,000.00. Mom had $21,500.00 in life insurance, but it takes weeks to get the payout. So, dad withdrew from the savings to pay for it. We had a brief meeting at the Parish house with our Priest to go over the arrangements. He had visited Mom at the hospital three times to anoint her and called me during her final hours and after her death. He started with a prayer for her and went over Mom’s Mass notes. I was surprised to learn that Mom’s eulogy needed to be trimmed for brevity. This was due to his concern over taking from the point of the Mass. So, when I was finished with my draft, I sent it to Father for the okay. He did okay it, though long, most likely out of love for Mom. Later, I made four photo boards for the visitation and hall luncheon. I had to drop off Mom’s clothing, compression hose, undergarments at the main funeral home. This location was situated next to a vast cemetery. This funeral home was much older, and it too, needed some upkeeping. At the main funeral home, which was massive, I had to walk around three sides of the building to find the correct entrance. As all the other entrances were locked with a ‘see main entrance’ sign. Once I found the main entrance, more of a side doorway with three steps, I had to buzz an old-fashioned intercom. I expected to be buzzed in, but no. I stated my name and reason, and an elderly woman cracked the door open just wide enough to take the bag of clothes. I realized that extreme precautions are probably in place due to curiosity seekers, or worse.
The Funeral
The family needed to be at the church by 9:00 A.M. This was to give us some time with her before the public visitation. That was the first time we were to see her since the hospital. Once at the church, I was surprised to see that her open casket was at the back of the church, near the entrance. Mom looked good. The funeral home prepared her with minimal make-up. They curled her hair and left her hands untouched. None of the excessive heavy flesh tone, that I had seen at prior calling hours. I prayed for her every chance I had. Especially at her casket. Having read a lot about the poor souls in purgatory, I know that the dead need our prayers for their deliverance. Soon the visitors arrived, to sign in and greet the family. One an old friend who has the ‘gift’ came from over an hour away. She explained to me that later I needed to call her, she had some information for me. Others filed past mom, some visibly upset, most praying for her, even more looking over the photo boards. A lot were taking snapshots of her old photos. I had a friend discreetly take pictures of mom and film parts of the funeral Mass. About 80 people viewed mom and stop to chat with various family members. Most visitors found a pew to settle in, waiting for the Mass to begin. The entire time the funeral director would approach to let me know what cues to wait for during the upcoming Mass. He was always straightforward, no false sympathies nor mournful expressions. At this time, he let me know Mass was to begin shortly and that we needed to view mom for the final time. The casket would be locked for Mass and burial. I placed a blessed Miraculous Medal on moms folded hands, and let the funeral director know. He asked if she would be buried with it, and I said yes.
The First eulogy was read by one of mom’s friends who was also a reader in church. It was the funnier one, so Father asked that it be read before Mass.
The Mass
The Mass began at the back of the church, mom’s closed casket waiting at the end of the aisle. Father started with the prayers as all the mourners faced the back of the church. Father blessed the casket with holy water, and on cue, my brother and I placed the pall over the casket and the funeral director placed the large almost 3-foot-long crucifix that mom wanted to lay atop her casket. Father proceeded down the aisle, with visiting priests and deacons while the funeral directors wheeled mom’s casket in front of the altar. My brother and I followed the casket and then took our place in the pew.
Mass proceeded with all of the readings and after the gospel the second eulogy was read by another reader friend of moms. This one pertained to her love of the church. After Father spoke about mom’s faith and virtues, communion was served. Soon the Mass was ended and all of the eight pallbearers took their positions behind the casket. Once again, the funeral director coached them. They carried her casket down the two flights of stairs unto the awaiting hearse and helped place her onto the rollers, sliding her casket in. The cemetery was directly behind the church, so we never had to drive on the road. No magnetic funeral signs were attached to the vehicles. We followed the lead car and hearse up the steep hill to the main entrance of the cemetery.
The Burial
Due to the recent rain, the burial service was not held over our actual plots. Instead, the green funeral canopy was located just off the gravel path under a cluster of trees, surrounded by graves. Dad was a little confused and the cemetery foreman let dad know that the burial was only staged here. She would be buried in her plot. In fact you could see the yellow backhoe from where we were. After all arrived and surrounded the canopy, all of the family sat and stood around her casket. The directors placed the flower spray with the ribbons stating, ” Wife Mother Grandmother” atop her casket. Father began the very brief prayer service reading from the Christian Burial Rites. Each of us took a rose from the spread and the funeral director asked all the please go over to the adjacent Knights Of Columbus Hall for the luncheon. The burial service was over.
The Luncheon Wake
We walked the short distance to the rental hall, the church funeral committee waiting for the mourners. I had removed mom’s photo boards from the church, plus added another for guests. Several of us loaded flowers, planters gifted from mom’s admirers and placed them in the hall. We all tried to maintain the front that we were strong and in good spirits. Several friends and extended family members came to the luncheon who missed the Mass.
After dining and much small talk, a sister spoke a few words about mom. The real highlight being my great nieces and nephew, only aged between 1 and 4 years old, running, crawling and laughing. How mom would have loved that! My oldest sister, who has Benson’s Syndrome, tried her best to socialize and walk by herself from table to table. This was a milestone for her. She even embraced her former husband. Of course, I knew that I could not nor would not even mention mom to my sister again. Any upset, hastens and deepens her dementia. Her health, especially eating, was progressively worsening. So no rocking the boat on my end.
As the attendees started to disperse, I made sure to insist everyone take home the flowers and planters, along with any take home food containers. After all was claimed, I loaded Dad into the Jeep for the short distance home. Dad was exhausted. But he repeated several times how all “those people told me how much mom meant to them.” Then he added and said twice “I’ve never felt so much love like what was in that room.”
Footnote: I started this blog post one year ago. It has taken me a year to even think about finishing it. It’s not for lack of content, as you will see in my next posts, but rather motivation. The moment, second mom died, something left me. I’ve determined that the “something” was my belief that I could no longer move the mountain of God. I would and could certainly pray, especially for others, but my prayers had little impact. After weathering a storm of family turmoil, I feel ready to start again.
Rich and Strange! 