Heading Out

Seeking the winds that help to sail on Shakespeare's tide.

Monday, January 10, 2005

A Quixotic Day

As the Muse allows, so we have now come back to the motel room. The day is over and filled with small vignettes that provide a final memory.

We were up early and tense but dressed and drove down to pick up the Engineer and the Advocate, who had arrived after midnight and stayed down at the airport. We came back in time to join the family brunch. None us us seemed to have much appetite, and so on to the funeral home.

After the viewing and the necessary certification we were sat, en famille, in the adjacent congregation room, waiting for a much larger event to conclude in the adjacent chapel. The Rabbi enters and comments to the Advocate that he gathers that the Advocate will be entering a civil union this coming summer (a surprise to us who thought it might have been a marriage). And a definite surprise to others in the family, not familiar with the partner's gender. They discuss the relative benefits of civil union and marriage as they relate to adoption (this was a day of surprises).

We move on. At the graveside the Writer (Esther's son) is half-way through the eulogy when there is a screech of brakes on the immediately adjacent road, and a car drives into the back of another, which was waiting to turn into the cemetery. The Writer turns to the Rabbi and asks the prevailing protocol. The Rabbit suggests we continue and we do. The Advocate speaks and we are all in tears. And then it is over, the soil is scattered, the coffin lowered, and we move off.

Back at the hotel the immediate family collect and visit. Then we immediate four return to the restaurant (Zuckerello's and Fish Company on Commercial in Ft Lauderdale) where we had dined so well on Saturday night. Tonight perhaps not as well, though still the fish was excellent.

Drop the boys at their hotel (the Engineer leaves before us in the morning) and back where a quick check of the e-mail shows that the Dauphin will be talking to a major potential sponsor tomorrow about a current effort we have been trying to put together. But while I am here, my colleague in the effort is in Kuwait and she won't return until Thursday. Que cera, cera.

Back at the room we finally look at the bag of clothes that the nursing home had provided as that which Esther had left when she passed away. As we go through we realize that none of the garments were items she would have bought or worn while still the stylish lady that she was. But we have no thought for this, save only that there are no memories here.

The Advocate had taken the stuffed animal she cherished to the end, and I had made the CD of pictures that we gave out to those who came. We are very emotionally tired and so to bed, and back home on the morrow.

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