Sad day....the funeral for my friend Fritch's good mom. Her family is very close, and there were a lot of tears. Mr. and Mrs. Fritsche sure raised a large, loving group of children and grandchildren.
As always, it was comforting and familiar to be back at St. Mary's Church in Dumont. Made my first confession and First Communion there. My confirmation, with my grandmother next to me as my sponsor. The annual May procession, first for Sis and then for me. Christmas and Easter Masses. Solemn Good Fridays. Site of my grandpa Jim Mahon's funeral, my mother's funeral, our wedding. Dad's funeral. The rituals: a fresh flower crown for Mary, mysterious ashes, incense, a choir loft, stained glass, kneelers. Long black robes, white robes, nuns' habits. Rosary beads. Pomp and circumstance.
The polished pews, the confessional boxes, the marble altar with golden rail, the speckled floor, the shining chandeliers. And the lovely white statue of Mary, on the left when you face the altar, and Joseph, on the right. [When my friends and I got married in the 1980s and 90s, it was typical for the bride to place a special bouquet at Mary's feet at the end of the ceremony. I can't swear that I did, but I remember others doing it.]
The rite of Christian burial.....it brings on primal pain. Yet we have to do it, move through it, mourn. It tears your heart out to lose your mother. I pray for my friend Fritch and her family. May the love of their mom live on strong in their hearts.
After the Fritsche motorcade pulled away, I went to visit my parents' graves, also at George Washington Cemetery in Paramus. I think it's the first time I've gone alone to Dad's since he died nearly two years ago. I always go with Sis. They're buried near the funny crooked pine tree that looks like something out of Dr. Seuss. The plaque says
I miss them both. I cried to them before I got out of the car. But then another long line of hearse/limos/cars came in on my left, and the funeral-home driver asked me if I was going to be staying there, as though I was intruding.
"My Dad's grave is right over there," I pointed. Jeez. It was hard enough to be sad but worse to have to open my window, crumpled tissue in hand, to answer to that guy.
Not an easy day.
Good night.
TCOY
As always, it was comforting and familiar to be back at St. Mary's Church in Dumont. Made my first confession and First Communion there. My confirmation, with my grandmother next to me as my sponsor. The annual May procession, first for Sis and then for me. Christmas and Easter Masses. Solemn Good Fridays. Site of my grandpa Jim Mahon's funeral, my mother's funeral, our wedding. Dad's funeral. The rituals: a fresh flower crown for Mary, mysterious ashes, incense, a choir loft, stained glass, kneelers. Long black robes, white robes, nuns' habits. Rosary beads. Pomp and circumstance.
The polished pews, the confessional boxes, the marble altar with golden rail, the speckled floor, the shining chandeliers. And the lovely white statue of Mary, on the left when you face the altar, and Joseph, on the right. [When my friends and I got married in the 1980s and 90s, it was typical for the bride to place a special bouquet at Mary's feet at the end of the ceremony. I can't swear that I did, but I remember others doing it.]
The rite of Christian burial.....it brings on primal pain. Yet we have to do it, move through it, mourn. It tears your heart out to lose your mother. I pray for my friend Fritch and her family. May the love of their mom live on strong in their hearts.
After the Fritsche motorcade pulled away, I went to visit my parents' graves, also at George Washington Cemetery in Paramus. I think it's the first time I've gone alone to Dad's since he died nearly two years ago. I always go with Sis. They're buried near the funny crooked pine tree that looks like something out of Dr. Seuss. The plaque says
GARBARINI
JOHN J. ANNE M.
I miss them both. I cried to them before I got out of the car. But then another long line of hearse/limos/cars came in on my left, and the funeral-home driver asked me if I was going to be staying there, as though I was intruding.
"My Dad's grave is right over there," I pointed. Jeez. It was hard enough to be sad but worse to have to open my window, crumpled tissue in hand, to answer to that guy.
Not an easy day.
Good night.
TCOY
- Brought big bottle of water with me to have in car.
- Walked Puff for 45 minutes and it felt good.
- Mu shu chicken split 3 ways with Figgy and her friend, with homemade brown rice on the side. Was watching budget, but it worked out fine.
- Ate a couple of fresh orange wedges.
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