The Funeral And The Ashes

I don’t know if I mentioned that I took my brother’s Xbox 360 home.  It’s been sitting in a backpack since we got home, so … almost two months.  I haven’t thought too much about setting it up and, when I do think about it, I worry that he still has time left on his X-box Live account and I’ll accidentally log into it and his internet buddies will be confused.  Or some of them won’t know and I’ll have to explain after they greet my brother.

We’re finally getting around to setting it up tonight.  Brett was working on it and noticed that a cable that we need wasn’t there.  I don’t know.  I just started to cry.  It’s not like Stefan -gave- me the Xbox.  I got it because he died.  And it hurts so so much.

My parents (and my aunt and sister who were in the car with them) were late for Stefan’s funeral.  Who arrives late for their son’s funeral?  Yeah, apparently, my mom didn’t even bother to think about getting a shower until around 9 when Brett and I showed up at the house.  The funeral was at 10.  So then she has to futz around with her hair and make up and whatever else.  So they’re all late.  And Brett and I are standing in the parking lot like idiots because we want to go in as a family.  By the time we actually got inside, a bunch of people were already seated.  We had to walk through to the front like it was a parade.  We should have been sitting in there before anyone arrived, in my opinion.

The body wasn’t there.  After the viewing, it was sent for cremation.  I’m grateful for that.  Instead, there was a very large picture of Stefan that was taken at my wedding.

I’m not sure how I feel about the service itself.  My mom didn’t want any mention of Stefan being in a better place or any talk of celebrating Stefan’s life.  And I’m okay with that.  I hate when people say that.  So, the service focused a lot on helping friends and family heal.  That was okay.  It was the part where everyone sang Amazing Grace that started the weirdness.  Okay, it’s not really time for a sing along.  I mean, I sang it with most everyone else, but the pastor/reverend/whatever/ kept saying stuff like "you all sound so good.  Let’s sing it again."  Meanwhile, my mom is sobbing her heart out next to me.  My dad is next to her.  Brett is on the other side of me.  Melanie next to him and then my aunt.  Dad is helping with mom.  I don’t know what was going on with Melanie or my aunt.

Stefan’s co-worker, Matt, went up and read something he had written about my brother.  When I initially read it, I didn’t like it.  In fact, I hated it.  But my mom, for some reason, loved it.  Maybe she could read it the same way Matt spoke it.  When Matt spoke it, I heard it the way it was supposed to sound.  And it was beautiful.

After Matt, Melanie and I went up to read a poem.  Melanie told a story about growing up with Stefan.  I shared a memory that had been on my mind a lot since I’d found out about Stefan’s death.  Then we read the poem.  And we sat down.  I’m not sure what happened next.  The pastor/reverend talked about healing for a while, I think.  Then he sang another song.  And then it was just over.

On Friday, the ashes were ready, but we didn’t pick them up until Saturday morning because my mom didn’t want them in the house.  She was afraid that my brother’s ghost would follow them and appear to her and ask her – "Why didn’t you check on me?  You woke me up all those other times?  Why not this time?"

We went to eat Saturday morning because everyone was leaving for home after the ashes were scattered.  My dad went to pick them up and came back with a card from his work.  Customers, co-workers, etc had signed it.  A customer put a $5 tip in it.  Broke my heart.  I don’t know what it was about that card that touched me so much.  Probably that he touched so many people.

Anyway, we went to the lake and found a spot on a bridge.  Before we left for the lake, my dad had asked me to say a prayer when spread the ashes.  Brett suggested I just do the Lord’s Prayer.  So, when we got ready, I said a few words and then began the prayer.  It was a good choice because everyone knew it.  Even my dad, who doesn’t believe in God.  Everyone started saying it with me.  Then my dad said, "Bowl forever, fish forever, game forever" as he spread the ashes.  That really touched me, too.

Afterwards, Melanie and I carved Stefan’s initials into a tree.

So … that’s about it, I guess.