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Aug. 6th, 2007 02:29 pmWe survived the weekend.
The funeral went very well. The choir was lovely, two of my father's colleagues and my uncle spoke as well as my brother and myself and a huge number of people showed up, including a number of former students. Everybody had so many good things to say about his patience, his dedication to his students, his intelligence and knowledge on a wide variety of topics, his great love of music and his gardening skills. My brother and I tried to fill in some of the details that people who didn't live with him might not know, like his dry sense of humor, his wonderful baking skills (and not-so-wonderful mustard-making) and how he taught us to love authentic Mexican food. I don't think a single hour could have been enough to remember everything worth knowing about him, but I feel like my father was well-honored.
The minister gave me an unexpected gift. I had been sitting through the beginning of the service telling myself over and over that I just had to make it until after our part of the eulogy and then I could fall apart and not doing too well. When during the first hymn, I was watching the choir come in and got choked up because I was suddenly absurdly touched at the number of people who had come out to sing for Dad, I knew I was in trouble. But then the minister got up to deliver the homily and decided to quote from Carousel, specifically "You'll Never Walk Alone." Well. Between Eddie the computer's rendition of it in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the bluegrass version on Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Comedy, I haven't been able to listen to that song with a straight face for years. So I suddenly found myself going from fighting back tears to fighting back giggles which carried me through until we spoke.
Of course, then we sang For All the Saints and the choir sang The Irish Blessing and I lost it totally. But it was okay. When do you have a better license to cry than at your father's funeral, after all?
I saw a lot of people who I hadn't seen since my wedding (seven years ago yesterday!) or even before that. It was wonderful to see them but I wish there were better ways to bring people together.
Since then, we've been sitting around the house with relatives, attempting to eat our way through the funeral baked meats and donated food.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
longstrider and I are the only ones left now as our plane isn't until 8:15 tonight (our choices were leave at 8:15 pm, or leave at 5:30 am and not arrive until 8 pm, going through two cities in the process). I'm trying to figure out what to do with myself for the less than two weeks before we leave Philly once again to take our planned trip to Michigan. Moping around the house doesn't seem to be a good option, but I know from previous experience that the reality of death doesn't really hit until after the funeral-related busyness is over and you really have time to process it. I'm not sure I'm going to be good for much over the next couple weeks.
The funeral went very well. The choir was lovely, two of my father's colleagues and my uncle spoke as well as my brother and myself and a huge number of people showed up, including a number of former students. Everybody had so many good things to say about his patience, his dedication to his students, his intelligence and knowledge on a wide variety of topics, his great love of music and his gardening skills. My brother and I tried to fill in some of the details that people who didn't live with him might not know, like his dry sense of humor, his wonderful baking skills (and not-so-wonderful mustard-making) and how he taught us to love authentic Mexican food. I don't think a single hour could have been enough to remember everything worth knowing about him, but I feel like my father was well-honored.
The minister gave me an unexpected gift. I had been sitting through the beginning of the service telling myself over and over that I just had to make it until after our part of the eulogy and then I could fall apart and not doing too well. When during the first hymn, I was watching the choir come in and got choked up because I was suddenly absurdly touched at the number of people who had come out to sing for Dad, I knew I was in trouble. But then the minister got up to deliver the homily and decided to quote from Carousel, specifically "You'll Never Walk Alone." Well. Between Eddie the computer's rendition of it in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the bluegrass version on Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Comedy, I haven't been able to listen to that song with a straight face for years. So I suddenly found myself going from fighting back tears to fighting back giggles which carried me through until we spoke.
Of course, then we sang For All the Saints and the choir sang The Irish Blessing and I lost it totally. But it was okay. When do you have a better license to cry than at your father's funeral, after all?
I saw a lot of people who I hadn't seen since my wedding (seven years ago yesterday!) or even before that. It was wonderful to see them but I wish there were better ways to bring people together.
Since then, we've been sitting around the house with relatives, attempting to eat our way through the funeral baked meats and donated food.
longstrider and I are the only ones left now as our plane isn't until 8:15 tonight (our choices were leave at 8:15 pm, or leave at 5:30 am and not arrive until 8 pm, going through two cities in the process). I'm trying to figure out what to do with myself for the less than two weeks before we leave Philly once again to take our planned trip to Michigan. Moping around the house doesn't seem to be a good option, but I know from previous experience that the reality of death doesn't really hit until after the funeral-related busyness is over and you really have time to process it. I'm not sure I'm going to be good for much over the next couple weeks. 
