We pull into town around one, and we drop mom off directly at the funeral parlor. I want to stay and help her, but mom makes it clear that this is something she'll handle.
She's worried that the clothes she packed for dad are in the suitcase she left with Jen. That would mean one or two hours behind us. I don't see this as a problem, but it wasn't in the plan.
Mom waves us off, tells us she'll call our cell if she needs us, and goes inside.
I just didn't know where to be on that one. Mom might need the help, but she genuinely seems to want to spare me this. I guess I want to be spared.
We drive to Grandma's old house, and see Grandma and my dad's sister B just getting out of their cars. Dad's sister did get the news, and made it back, nice to see the fates aren't that cruel.
Grandma says hello and mentions how nice it is that the house didn't sell and we can all stay together.
I say something stupid, "Things never change." Big grin on my face.
Grandma buckles and says, "everything's changed."
And there goes the composure, right out the window.
The house is eerily like it used to be, albeit with an apartment-sized bite taken out of the furnishings. The living room has three chairs and the entertainment center that dad made, and nothing else.
My aunt tells us that the upstairs rooms are all set, and people have been bringing food all day. F brought by two industrial-sized pans of food, and there's enough lasagna to feed a battalion.
We get the boy set up, he charms the locals, and then the crowds start to arrive. L's here, with his wife I adore - and his brother I don't. Dad's brother is out picking up the youngest brother up from the cities. Family friends of my mother... and on and on.
The ladies from church stop by to ask about themes and decorations for the funeral lunch. Mom's not back yet, so mostly we offer them indecision. At least in my presence, mom was very clear on two things: this was not going to be a drawn-out affair and dad viewed his military career as in the past.
Their American-flag theme goes out the window, and they opt for plan-B and depart. (Well, first they inquire as to who I am for saying so, but since I'm the son - they take my word for it.) At the moment, I'm just too pent up to think nice things about these folks - but later I'm just floored by their energy and drive. Details I would never think of are being handled by people who have never been asked for a thing.
Bad news hit this town and people got busy. Mom told me she got the obit in the paper while she was in Mississippi. She was standing in her back yard, screaming into her cell phone because the connection was so terrible. She's amazed it turned out.
Dozens of details, songs, lunch, music are all being handled without my knowledge or input - all while I'm safely gorging myself Grandma's.
Mom gets back from the funeral parlor and says things are finally set. Jen dropped off dad's clothes before they showed up, so now her two boys mingle with the teeming mass of humanity at the old house.
Mom's surrounded, and I'm no help. I offer some useless advice about who should speak at the funeral, right before I realize that mom's past making more decisions or changes. It's done. The crowd swells, and we become numb to it.
Ten a.m. tomorrow, the onslaught begins.
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