I just returned from a long, productive day in Hornell where we met with the funeral director and worked out all the details of the funeral and interment of our father. We discussed even the minutest details about how everything would work, and I think my mom, my sister, and I are satisfied that things are as they should be and that my father would be pleased. We also met with three different priests and hammered out the specifics of the funeral service itself; including readings, music, prayers, and the specific roles people would be playing. The funeral service will be held at Trinity Church in Canaseraga, NY on Friday, July 14th at 11:00 AM. Trinity is located on North Church Street in Canaseraga. It’s a small parish which my parents have attended religiously (pun intended) for the last few years, and my father has been the Warden there.

Death is such a complicated thing. We spent time today writing an obituary, deciding the specifics of handling ashes, determining transportation for the funeral, and discussing the myriad of other details that go into planning such an occasion. My father was a very practical man and didn’t care much about what happened after he died. When asked about how he wanted a funeral service or interment handled, he would reply with something like, “I don’t really care, because I’ll be dead.” The one thing that he did mention many times was that he wanted to have bagpipers at his funeral. The pomp and circumstance of bagpipers in their kilts, with the magical, but somewhat eerie sound of pipes wailing away as people mourned, has always appealed to Pop. So bagpipers it is.

As expected, my mother and the rest of our family are deeply affected by our loss. Everyone seems to be doing relatively well given the situation, but we are all very weary from the experience. We are still in a phase where the thought of Pop’s death unexpected catches you off guard and hits you, and before you know it you are overcome by sadness. Mom has been a trouper and instinctively redirects her sorrow to planning and getting things done, but these are only temporary distractions from the reality of what has happened. Rest well tonight, Mom. We love you. Tomorrow is a new day.