Okay, so the funeral was at 9 a.m. at Arlington Cemetary, and you would think it would still be cool at that time of the morning. Not so. Not so at all. So wearing black – and black HOSE at that – was almost unbearable.
Our morning started off well enough. We got CootieBoy and CootieGirl dressed in their finest duds, and then the caravan started off. We had six cars in a line since only a couple of us knew where to go. We were about five minutes away when CootieGirl sudden got violently sick. Three times. All over her dress. For which we had no replacement clothes because we knew we’d only be away from home for two hours. When we got to the security checkpoint at Fort Myer I got out and began wiping her down as best I could. Fortunately it was mainly the juice that she had just drank (drunk?), so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been if it was, say, pancakes.
At the chapel I took her to the bathroom to clean her up a bit more – her dress was navy blue, so the wet spots weren’t as visible as they could have been. We came back up to the family area just off the chapel (which already had about 20-30 people sitting and waiting for the funeral to start), and it was soon after that that CootieBoy noticed that the hallway had an echo.
So he screamed. Very loudly.
And that was pretty much CootieBoy for the rest of the morning. We finally seated ourselves inside the chapel, and immediately CootieBoy wanted to play and make noise because the echo was even greater in the large chapel.
Then Denis’ cellphone rang. I turned to him and hissed, “Dude, are you KIDDING me?” and he freaked and rushed to the door that led to the family room, only to find that it wouldn’t open. He turned and faced the people like a deer in headlights and then skulked back to his seat. But then CootieBoy started making more noise so Denis escorted him outside and let him play for the remainder of the funeral service.
The service was nice – my mom did the eulogy, which was lovely. Then my family’s old pastor did the message, which was also very nice. One prayer from my father and we were whisked outside. My family pastor said that they were doing THIRTY funerals that day – which is shocking. And also the reason for the 20 minute service. I only cried once, when I took the time to really look at the coffin, which was a short three feet from me. I suddenly got very sad.
When the service was over we went out to follow the caisson to the gravesite. Unfortunately, the family seats were directly in the sun, so while the military honors went on (21 gun salute, namely) we were all sweltering in our finest black clothes. So much so that eventually CootieBoy, who was sitting on my lap during a quiet moment of silence, turned to me and very loudly announced what we were all thinking: “Hot!” My mom said she laughed when he said that, so CootieBoy brought a bit of levity to an otherwise solemn occasion.
After the graveside service we all moved to our cars and drove back to the house for a reception. It was mainly family members and a couple family friends, and by the end of it I was exhausted. We all were, I think.
Next up: returning to NJ only go find Bloomfield was a mess – and that includes the largest branch that could possibly be in my driveway (see top moblog pic for reference)