Funeral and Tears

It was a tough funeral for me. Lots of tears. Memories kept flooding back. Memories of our very young children. Every story told by her children Robb and Kari, I remembered. I had been there.

We arrived early and watched as people we knew flooded into the funeral parlor. They opened up another space to seat the crowd until finally, there was barely enough space for people to stand in the entry hall. It was packed.

I saw a lot of the former Rhodas (must read previous blog to understand) and one of the moms from the playgroup sat in front of us. She was the person who would always say nasty jabs to me. During our last conversation years ago, she asked if I still lived in "that tiny dump." Lindsey told me that her son "Danny, darling" was a New York attorney. No, I did not tap her on the shoulder for a conversation. A playgroup dad was also there. We spoke with him afterwards and learned that his son, Mac, was married, has two children and living in Beirut.

Wayne, her children's father, spoke to the crowd. He was with her when she died. That was the kind of woman Lindsey was. She still had a close relationship with her former husband and in fact, told me that she really loves his current wife!

At a funeral of another dear friends many years ago, I was appalled that each of her four friends stood and announced that they were her "best friend." Each insisted that they, no, THEY were Sharon's best friend. It was not done it jest. They were very serious. I found it disgusting. At one point during the service yesterday, one of the Rhodas made a speech proclaiming that she, Tish and Lindsey were the Three Musketeers and that they were Lindsey's very best friends. It reminded me of Sharon's service. Seemed so inappropriate.

I was able to hug Robb, who didn't recognize me, and Kari, who I would not have recognised. We spoke privately afterwards, we invited both to visit next time they are on the coast and I promptly burst into tears. Again.

I am so happy we attended and I was able to say goodbye to an old friend. Who knew that Lindsey would be the first to die of the seven of us from our children's playgroup? She never sat down. She never stopped moving. She was the most active.

What I most left the services with was the joy that all the speakers captured Lindsey. I guess we all felt that, at one time in our lives, she made us all feel that we all were her very best friend.