A Beautiful Spring Morning
I did something good yesterday. Good for myself, my children, my in-laws and Coleen’s family and friends. And for Coleen. It was something I have written about here and thought about doing since September 19th of last year. The Episcopal church calls it a “Committal” and I suppose most other religions do as well. It is where a person’s remains are buried or “committed” to the earth from which we all came.The day was exactly as I had envisioned it would be. It was a beautiful spring morning with the sun shining brightly on us. A slight coolness in the air was offset by the warmth of the morning sun. The scene was set when we arrived although it was quite barren. There was simply a small table placed atop a piece of artificial grass that cover the hole where Coleen’s urn would be stored for eternity. There was also a temporary shelter tent over the area. I placed the urn on the table and a wreath of flowers around it. We had two additional flower arrangements flanking the table and Coleen’s portrait on an easel just off to one side. With those few additions, what was originally a somber funeral scene was converted into a memorial celebration.
Guests began to arrive. The cellist I had hired was setting up her performance area under the shelter. My granddaughters were sitting in the front row in small camp chairs busy with coloring and reading activities. We wandered among ourselves, greeting each other with hugs and sympathetic smiles. Knowing what an honor it was to be where we were but saddened by the occasion. Sharing a few tears and remembrances as we all took in the absolute beauty of the day. A day Coleen would have cherished and embraced.
The cellist stated the prelude to the service with a song by Sting called “Fragile.” It is a very tender song with a repeating lyric of “How fragile we are.” Of course, there were no lyrics that morning but I knew what they were. That song was part of the soundtrack to our life. She then played some excerpts from the Bach Cello Suites leading up the beginning of the service.
I asked my son Patrick to read a poem before the religious part of the service started. It was one of Coleen’s favorites, “Celebrate the Journey,” and has such sentimental and emotional history for us. And I wanted Patrick to deliver the poem’s message in honor of his mom. The retiring pastor from our church, Mother Liza, then performed the brief Committal Service and our cellist played “Amazing Grace.”
As this was all happening, I stood in the middle of the crowd but with no one in particular. Although I had planned and orchestrated the event, at that time I was a participant, a grieving observer just like everyone else. I had intervals of tears all morning long and especially during the service and when I looked at Coleen’s portrait. At the same time, I had feelings of great joy and love. It was an awkward conflict of emotion but not unlike what I had expected.
As the service concluded and “Amazing Grace” was playing, I went to my daughter Lindsay and we hugged each other and cried briefly on each others shoulder. We both said “I love you,” and talked about how much Mom would have loved everything about the morning. I then found Shauna and Patrick and did the same then went to every guest and shared a hug and a tear or two. I don’t know about the protocol of that but I can say that it felt good for me and I imagine for them as well. Coleen’s parents were especially emotional and I think the service helped them with some closure.
I did not want the service to end sadly and neither would have Coleen. I arranged for the next song to be “Here Comes The Sun,” a favorite of our granddaughters, and I could not have made a more perfect choice. The sound of that music playing so brilliantly on a cello just seemed to alter everyone’s mood from overwhelming sadness to one of optimism and joy. The sun was shining, people mingling, spring in the air, renewal, replenish, rebirth. It just all seemed to suddenly make so much sense.
During the last days of this life, Coleen was asked by Lindsay and Samantha several questions including what her favorite song was. She answered “Don’t Dream It’s Over,” by Crowded House. That song closed the ceremony on another positive yet very reflective note. I was very happy to hear it and thought it a wonderful tribute to Coleen and the day. We all returned to our house for lunch, drinks and conversation before people started to depart and return to their own lives leaving the memories of Coleen for other times.
I stayed though. And later I returned to the cemetery and Coleen’s new gravesite. It looked different that afternoon as I’m sure it will most times I visit. The tent was gone, the urn had been placed in the ground along with the wreath of flowers and had been covered with the earth. The other flower arrangements were on top of where the hole had been dug and they looked magnificent in the glow of the afternoon sun. Before I left for home that morning, I gave the urn one last kiss and one last touch. I can’t do that anymore but I know where it is. Yesterday afternoon, I put my palm on the ground and could almost feel a flow of energy. I’m going to keep trying that.
April 21, 2014 will be a new date on my calendar. It will be the day that I did something very good for a lot of people. It will be a day that turned out exactly like I envisioned it to be. It will be a day of change, of closure, of renewal, of rebirth. I was worried that I waited too long to have Coleen’s burial. As it turns out, I waited just long enough. People had time to move past the mourning and grief of her loss and were able to find the joy and love that she created in her life and left behind as gifts to us all.
It was a beautiful spring morning.
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