~ Jacob's Funeral Part Two ~
The day started out early.
After the long and emotional night before, we had to get ourselves and
the kids ready to leave the house by 10 AM.
We were off to our church for the final prayers over Jacob and then
would caravan with family and a few friends to South Carolina to the monastery
where Jacob would be buried. This was
supposed to be about a 4 hour drive and I had been dreading it all week. Like it was the final mile of a ridiculously
long marathon, except I would be happy to complete a real marathon. The finish line of this marathon was not a
lovely red ribbon and a crowd of cheering onlookers, but Jacob’s coffin being
lowered into the ground and covered with dirt.
I knew that moment would be the first of many milestones that I knew I
would have to face in the coming weeks and years whether I wanted to or
not.
When we got to the church there were not many people there compared to the previous night and I was grateful for that. In the Orthodox Church, during the final service at the church, they bless the lid of the coffin, they say a prayer, sprinkle it with holy water and then place the lid on the coffin. When Dan’s mother had passed away after Allie was born this moment in her funeral service was one of the most heartbreaking moments I have ever experienced…the last time Dan would be able to touch or look at his mother. At this point you are forced to let go of your loved one on this earth, for the next time you see them, God willing, will be in Heaven, but if you have the fortitude of my grandmother and live to be 97 years old, and you lose someone close to you before you turn 90, you’re going to be waiting a LONG time. I was touched by the people that were there, close family and just a handful from our church that so lovingly were going to also drive the 4 hours there and back just to be there for us and Jacob. It was quiet in the church. Family and parishioners had kept vigil by Jacob the entire night reading the Psalms over his sweet body so he had never been alone in the church for even a minute. It was relatively quiet, I walked in and rubbed my hand over Jacob’s cold forehead several times as I kissed him then walked a few feet away to stand by Dan. A few minutes later the service started. I knew it would not be long. Dan and I were standing together about 4 feet away from Jacob’s open coffin…I knew what would happen at the end of this service. As Father said the words starting the service and the small choir, ie. Dan’s brothers, Dad and sister, started singing their parts this heavy weight started to pull my heat out of my body to the depths of the earth. I had to be closer to Jacob, because this was it, the seconds were starting to go by too fast but tick louder and louder in my head. “they’re going to cover him up. They’re going to cover him up. I can’t do this, I can’t do this” is all that kept going in my head. I looked at Jacob and the 4 feet between us was way too much. I thought for about a split second if it would be okay to stand a little closer to him, and before I really thought about it I thought, "I am his mother dammit, of course it's okay if I stand closer!" I didn't care if it was “right” or “wrong” it was what I had to do. Every fiber in my body had to be as close as I could be to Jacob for the last few minutes I would be able to look at his perfect, beautiful face and touch his perfectly soft skin. I walked to him quickly and put my hand on his forehead. The prayers continued without slowing down…tick tock…
tick tock……..
tick……..
tock…………
TICK
TOCK
I put my head down to his and cried the cry you never really want anyone to be present for. The ugly cry. “I can’t do this…….I CAN'T DO THIS” I sobbed and just let it come out. I didn't want to be strong at that moment, nor do I think I could have been. The prayers continued and I knew the end of the service was near. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this” is all that went through my head….over and over...and probably a slew of “why? Why, God? WHY?” The final prayer was said and then Father Chris walked over to the tiny lid for Jacob’s coffin with water to bless it. Why wouldn't time just stop, slow down, something, anything…..but it just kept going. Dan’s brother or brothers, I couldn't really see through the glaze of tears, held the lid as Fr. blessed it and they started walking towards Jacob. It was the worst moment I have ever experienced in my entire life and it was happening and I could NOT get out of it, or change it, or make it stop. I had to say goodbye and never touch him again on this earth and I had to do it now. Dan and I kissed him and told him we loved him and I fell to the floor. I could not watch them put the lid on, I just could not. I wanted to just grab Jacob into my arms and hold him right there on the floor of the church for the rest of my life but I knew I couldn't. I just wanted to hold him forever, but I couldn't. Dan’s brothers picked up Jacob’s coffin and somehow I peeled myself up off of the floor with Dan’s help and we followed them out to our minivan while singing “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, Have Mercy On Us”. Dan’s brothers placed Jacob’s coffin right next to Allie’s seat as her’s could pivot to the middle of the car and that is where Jacob rode in our car for the first and last time. All three of our children in the backseat, all in a row, for the only trip we would ever take together as a family. The family we’d been preparing for for 9 months and that was all messed up now.
When we got to the church there were not many people there compared to the previous night and I was grateful for that. In the Orthodox Church, during the final service at the church, they bless the lid of the coffin, they say a prayer, sprinkle it with holy water and then place the lid on the coffin. When Dan’s mother had passed away after Allie was born this moment in her funeral service was one of the most heartbreaking moments I have ever experienced…the last time Dan would be able to touch or look at his mother. At this point you are forced to let go of your loved one on this earth, for the next time you see them, God willing, will be in Heaven, but if you have the fortitude of my grandmother and live to be 97 years old, and you lose someone close to you before you turn 90, you’re going to be waiting a LONG time. I was touched by the people that were there, close family and just a handful from our church that so lovingly were going to also drive the 4 hours there and back just to be there for us and Jacob. It was quiet in the church. Family and parishioners had kept vigil by Jacob the entire night reading the Psalms over his sweet body so he had never been alone in the church for even a minute. It was relatively quiet, I walked in and rubbed my hand over Jacob’s cold forehead several times as I kissed him then walked a few feet away to stand by Dan. A few minutes later the service started. I knew it would not be long. Dan and I were standing together about 4 feet away from Jacob’s open coffin…I knew what would happen at the end of this service. As Father said the words starting the service and the small choir, ie. Dan’s brothers, Dad and sister, started singing their parts this heavy weight started to pull my heat out of my body to the depths of the earth. I had to be closer to Jacob, because this was it, the seconds were starting to go by too fast but tick louder and louder in my head. “they’re going to cover him up. They’re going to cover him up. I can’t do this, I can’t do this” is all that kept going in my head. I looked at Jacob and the 4 feet between us was way too much. I thought for about a split second if it would be okay to stand a little closer to him, and before I really thought about it I thought, "I am his mother dammit, of course it's okay if I stand closer!" I didn't care if it was “right” or “wrong” it was what I had to do. Every fiber in my body had to be as close as I could be to Jacob for the last few minutes I would be able to look at his perfect, beautiful face and touch his perfectly soft skin. I walked to him quickly and put my hand on his forehead. The prayers continued without slowing down…tick tock…
tick tock……..
tick……..
tock…………
TICK
TOCK
I put my head down to his and cried the cry you never really want anyone to be present for. The ugly cry. “I can’t do this…….I CAN'T DO THIS” I sobbed and just let it come out. I didn't want to be strong at that moment, nor do I think I could have been. The prayers continued and I knew the end of the service was near. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this” is all that went through my head….over and over...and probably a slew of “why? Why, God? WHY?” The final prayer was said and then Father Chris walked over to the tiny lid for Jacob’s coffin with water to bless it. Why wouldn't time just stop, slow down, something, anything…..but it just kept going. Dan’s brother or brothers, I couldn't really see through the glaze of tears, held the lid as Fr. blessed it and they started walking towards Jacob. It was the worst moment I have ever experienced in my entire life and it was happening and I could NOT get out of it, or change it, or make it stop. I had to say goodbye and never touch him again on this earth and I had to do it now. Dan and I kissed him and told him we loved him and I fell to the floor. I could not watch them put the lid on, I just could not. I wanted to just grab Jacob into my arms and hold him right there on the floor of the church for the rest of my life but I knew I couldn't. I just wanted to hold him forever, but I couldn't. Dan’s brothers picked up Jacob’s coffin and somehow I peeled myself up off of the floor with Dan’s help and we followed them out to our minivan while singing “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, Have Mercy On Us”. Dan’s brothers placed Jacob’s coffin right next to Allie’s seat as her’s could pivot to the middle of the car and that is where Jacob rode in our car for the first and last time. All three of our children in the backseat, all in a row, for the only trip we would ever take together as a family. The family we’d been preparing for for 9 months and that was all messed up now.
Below are pictures from that morning service on
Friday March 23,2012
The trip was long. It seemed to go so slowly. We were all exhausted and just trying to make it through this last long day. The kids did surprisingly well except for the tantrum Adam threw when we stopped for lunch. Those clever marketing people at McDonald's put a display of their Happy Meal toys right at Adams’ eye level and he noticed it as we walked out of the restaurant to get back on the road. He cried and cried, “I want the toy…I want the TOY!” I couldn't blame him, who could really. We explained that we would get a toy on the way back home later and after saying that several times he gave up and retreated to his carseat. Those were the moments that had gotten me through the whole week. The random tantrums, diapers that needed changing, the daily events of life with toddlers. We continued on our journey.
As we exited the highway and started the final leg of our journey on peaceful country roads, I was noticing the ominous gray clouds up above. It looked as if huge rain clouds were coming in, the kind that bring torrential downpours. I wondered if they would hold off or if the Heavens would open up uncontrollably as I had just a few hours earlier. I didn't know what we would do if it was a torrential downpour for the burial??? But we kept driving and it didn't rain. About 25 minutes after we got off of the interstate we were finally pulling into the monastery grounds. The road was unpaved and narrow. There were already a few cars there and really no room at all to park. My husband and I noticed one car in particular. We both agreed that it belonged to a parishioner who had been very active in our parish, but who had been gone for almost a year. She was an Orthodox mother that I admired fiercely and we had missed her and her family very much and had been wanting them to come back to our church. We were awestruck that she had driven all this way just for Jacob’s burial, for a short service that would seemingly be over before it had even started. One of many miracles that happened as a result of Jacob’s life and death. We continued forward till the trees narrowing left little room for a car. When we got out the first person I saw was Adam’s God brother, Noah. This is the sweetest child I have ever met. His father, Adam’s Godfather and also a priest, Fr. John, had driven up from Florida just for this service. I was so happy to see them both and grateful that it did not look like the hole for Jacob’s coffin was anywhere in sight. I had no idea what to do next. People convened, Adam ran ahead to investigate some chickens running around and say hi to Noah. Dan and I started dressing Adam and Allie in nicer clothes as we’d let them ride in their pajamas the whole trip down. People milled about quietly as they tried to figure out where we were supposed to go. I could not see any grave markers and I didn't see any holes around so knew we would need to go somewhere else. Someone came and said we could drive back out to the road, go through the gate and park closer to the grave so we piled back in the car and drove back out. It was not far away, closer than I wanted it to be. Suddenly this trip that had seemed like it was never going to end, this long horrible week, was coming to an end and it meant the end of my physically being close to my baby, forever. Dan parked with the passenger side of the van opening to the short path leading to a small simple group of graves. There were an array of little crosses, flowers, small stones all marking the graves of other children that had left this life already. It was a lovely spot under some nice trees, looked well cared for but not pretentious. A midst the other markers was a small hole that had been recently dug up…the hole where Jacob, my son, would be laid to rest and a hole that was four hours, 240 miles and 20 feet farther away than any of my children have ever been from me for more than 24 hours and Jacob would be there forever. After parking in the right place, I had walked the 20 feet or so from our car with Dan to the hole where Jacob would be buried. People stood all around, many about 10-15 feet back from the hole giving the family and clergy space to be closer. I stood there and suddenly the 20 feet between me and Jacob who was still in the coffin in our car seemed like miles away. Like a magnet, I was drawn back to him. Everything around me started to blur away, get quiet, very quiet. I walked back to the car leaving everyone else behind, my parents, family, friends and the quiet chatter slipped away into the air around as I got farther away from the hole and closer to my sweet Jacob. His coffin was sitting on the floor of the van in the backseat between Allie’s car seat and the sliding door which was open, waiting for someone to come and take him to his final spot in this little cemetery. I sat down next to Jacob’s closed coffin and suddenly everything, every noise, every everything around me fell quiet. No sound of people, no wind, no leaves rustling in the breeze, no children, nothing.
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