The Visitation

Tuesday morning. It was the morning that we were to go to Bates for the family viewing. The funeral director had warned us that Dad had alot of "structural damage" to his head, so we would need to decide at the private viewing whether or not we would have an open casket. I didn't want to go. I never wanted to see my daddy lifeless, but yet I knew that I needed to. Maybe seeing him would make this seem real--but I didn't want it to be real. I had been trying (without much success) to convince myself for the last few days that this was some horrible mistake, but knew that when I saw his body it would become real to me.
Mom went first. Jeff was with her. I stood back to give her time and was amazed at all of the plants and flowers that had been sent. The stands were already full and they kept bringing more and more in. The flowers were a nice distraction, they somehow gave me a break from realizing why I was really there. Healthy or not, I needed distraction. I wasn't ready. I'd never be ready.
The time came when I approached the casket. My dad looked good. Very handsome. The new tie worked great with the tan jacket and coffe brown shirt. It looked like him. I wasn't sure whether the funeral director overexaggerated how bad his head injuries were or had just done a heck of a job with whatever they do to make someone look like they used to. I studied his face. There was the small bump on his left cheek that had been there as long as I can remember. There was the sunspot on his right ear that I kept telling him he needed to get checked out. There were the winkles under his eyes that we always warned him not to rub when his allergies were bad. There were bushy eyebrows, the smooth complexion. My dad. The ony thing that wasn't right was his mouth. His top lip had a little pucker that I had never noticed before. Looking back at his senior portraits later--you know, the ones you don't smile for--it was there. Why had I never noticed? It occurred to me that I had never seen my dad with his lips together. He was ALWAYS smiling.
That was the beginning of what was to be a long day. The visitation was to start at four. We went back to the farm, had some lunch, and visited with some family. Mom invited me to walk to the mailbox with her, and we laid in her bed for close to an hour opening sympathy cards. Around 3 we took off to go back to Bates. There were several people there when we arrived offering their condolences. The line picked up rather quickly and we stood in awe of how many people's lives my dad had touched for nearly 7 hours. People waited just shy of 2 hours to reach the front of the line. Amazing.
I held up pretty well. There came one point in the evening when I lost it. All of the sudden I found myself face to face with a crabby lady. I don't know who she was, but she was not there for the right reason. Instead of offering to tell how she knew dad she complained that the line was long. I apologized for the wait and thanked her for being there. At that point she glared in my direction and cut ahead to where my mom was, spoke briefly to her and left. Whoa. What just happened? I felt hurt and confused. Did I do something wrong? Tears stung at my eyes and I started shaking. Craig took one look at me and told me that I needed a break--NOW. I went out to the van and stood behind it because it was locked I just cried and let my emotions overtake me for a bit. I missed my dad. I was angry, and hurt, and confused, and somehow this visitation stopped being about my dad, and about her. I wouldn't give her any more of my thoughts that day. I was there for to honor my dad and she could do whatever and it wasn't going to stop me from honoring him any less. I prayed for strength and felt an instant peace. As I headed back inside there was clarity. It just hurt me to know that someone would come there and show disrespect for anyone in the family. It stung because I know that my dad's family was more important than anything to him and if he had seen someone hurt me, it would have hurt him, too.
The end of the line was met with mixed emotions. I was purely exhausted, but couldn't get enough of people telling how they knew my dad and what they would remeber about him.
I laid awake for hours that night trying to write and sort out my thoughts. I had agreed to share some thoughts at the service and couldn't make a sentence. Finally, I shut down my computer and drifted off to sleep. If God wanted me to talk at Dad's service, he was going to have to help me out in the morning, but for now, I needed sleep. I needed to face Wednesday well rested, because that was the day I needed to somehow figure out how to say goodbye.