Anatomy of a Funeral.

So my dad died a couple of months ago. I said, "So my dad died a couple of months ago". It's so odd, that sentence. And although the actual date of death was March 5, 2010, he's almost always been kind of dead to me.

I have lots of memories of my dad. The first time I actually remember seeing him, I was probably 3 or 4 years old. Don't get me wrong, I lived with my dad since birth. But I only remember him after age 3 or 4. He was this man who worked a lot, and when he did come home, most of the time he was either in bed, or watching TV, or cutting grass. When he would cut grass, I would always make him a glass of lemonade, or ice water and bring it out to him. I can remember being really proud of myself for doing that. And I think he appreciated it. One day, I thought I would take him his drink, and as he drank it, I had the great idea of doing a ballet dance for him, since I was taking ballet. He just waved his hand in a dismissive manner, and told me not to dance. He seemed really embarrassed, like I had committed a crime right there in the yard. I really couldn't understand why he didn't want me to dance for him. I thought I was putting on a show. My mom and my grandparents seemed to really like it when I performed for them. He was different.

When I was 6, I stayed with the neighbors after school, because both of my parents worked. On Fridays, my dad would pick me up, and take me to get a toy. He did it almost every Friday. I really enjoyed that. And because he knew I liked going to Fairs, sometimes on a weekend, just out of the blue, he would say... "let's go find a Fair somewhere".. and we would get in the car and drive around Atlanta looking for some sort of Fair. We hardly ever found one, but I didn't care. One time, he bought me a kiddie car with a real motor, and gas pedal. I thought it was the most awesome thing ever.

But as I got older, things changed. His motto, which he told anyone who would listen, was "children are to be seen and not heard". He was almost never home, and if he happened to be home, he wasn't happy. When I was 11, he skipped Christmas. Did you even know that was possible? For a dad to just skip Christmas? Well, he did. When I got up that morning to see what gifts were under the tree, he just stayed in bed. So it was me and my mom. We have the film of it and everything. Finally, after a couple of hours, he decided to come in briefly. We got that on film, too. Years later, he would describe me as a child to one of his friends. And he said this as a compliment.....he said...."Terri was a great kid. I never knew she was even there." And he meant it in the best possible way. To him, that was the ultimate compliment. I was invisible.

And I continued to stay that way after my parents divorce. I must've REALLY been great at that point, because he almost NEVER saw me. I would say that is when my dad started his slow, and painful death to me. For years, he ignored me almost completely. He did what he had to do, as was dictated by divorce papers. Other than that, visits from him were rare, and often included various girlfriends whom I had never met until the day they were included in our "visits". So for 35 years, I lived in almost certain invisibility where he was concerned. I never got used to it, and even up until last year, was still surprised when he completely forgot my birthday again. I always was dumbfounded by this. If you only have ONE child, how can you not remember their birthday? It was very painful each and every year. I thought I was numb to the pain. Little did I know the REAL pain would start in March of 2010.

On March 4, I felt compelled to visit my dad in the hospice care facility he had been in for 3 months. Something just told me to go, and I did. March 5, he died. Silly me; I thought the pain died with him. When, in fact, it was as if someone had stuck a knife in me, twisted it a billion times, and left it there to bleed. It started with the way I was informed of his death. For practical purposes only, I will refer to my dad's wife, as..... my dad's wife. So, my dad's wife called our house. My husband answered. She said...exact words..."Kevin, Papa has died". My husband knew who she was, so he started to say something nice, like...."I'm sorry"....but before he could even say anything, she hung up. "Papa has died". Well, who the hell is this Papa person, I wondered? This is how much I DIDN'T know about my dad. Apparently, his name was now Papa.

2 weeks prior to his death, his wife was extremely concerned that I provide pictures to the funeral home, so that she would have lots of pictures to show on a television set during the "wake". So I went through all my pictures, and picked out the very few I had of him with me in the picture. I think there were two. One when I was about 3, and another when I was 36. So the funeral was practically planned before he ever drew his last breath. The day before the funeral, she called to ask me if I wanted to get up and speak at the funeral. Absolutely not. I did not want to get up in front of all those people and speak about "Papa". She informed me that one of her daughters was going to speak at the funeral. Later on that night, my daughter, who was also completely ignored by this "Papa" person, had told me she would like to sing a song at his funeral. I was surprised that she would want to, but also completely proud of her. She's light years ahead of me in maturity and kindness. I called my dad's wife and proudly told her that Katie wanted to sing a song at the funeral. I was almost in tears when I told her this, because I thought it was just so incredibly forgiving of her to want to sing at someone's funeral who completely ignored her her entire life. Not surprisingly, "the wife" told me she would check with the preacher and funeral home director, and call me back. For reasons unknown to me, I was completely shocked when 5 minutes later, she called and said that Katie couldn't sing a song. There was just too much already scheduled for the funeral to fit in a song. Have you ever heard of a funeral that was so packed with material that a 2 1/2 minute song wouldn't fit in the program? No...neither have I. But none the less, I listened to her, and hung up the phone. I was furious. Apparently, though, she had second thoughts about it, because 20 minutes later, she called to say that she had somehow figured out a way for Katie to sing this song, provided of course, that she dedicate it to 'Papa'. Well, why WOULDN'T she dedicate it to him, means it was at HIS funeral? I think the only reason she called back was because she knew that she would be unable to explain to all of our family members why she wouldn't allow my dad's only grandchild to sing at his funeral.

During the "action packed" funeral, one of my dad's wife's daughters did get up and speak. She told what a wonderful guy my dad was, how great he was to all of them. At the end of her speech, she looked at me (I was the one on the second row, along with the alcoholic step sister, and various other "second-tier" family members) and said... "So, Terri....thank you for giving us your dad all these years". Um........ok. Honestly, at that moment, I thought I was going to have a heart attack or something. I had never actually experienced a heart attack, but I was absolutely certain this was what one felt like. Quickly I scanned the room to see if paramedics were available. They were not. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to make it without my heart bursting out of my body. I don't remember the rest of the day, really. It was a blur. Except for the fact that as we were sitting in the funeral procession in our car, one of the wife's son in law's came to my window, and informed me that I had to remove a large plant from the church that was sent by a friend of mine. This was a HUMONGOUS plant. And it needed to be removed now? Are you kidding me? But ok. We got the plant.

It has been 2 months. The woman has never called to see if I wanted anything of my dad's. All of my dad's jewelry she gave to my uncle. She has never given me anything. And she won't. Again, I am somehow still surprised at her incredibly insensitive and vindictive behavior.

I've always heard it. "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord." I really, truly hope this is still in effect. I've also heard you should bless the people who persecute you, and not curse them. I'm finding this one a little tough. VERY tough. But I'm going to do the best I can to abide by this. I've been in therapy ever since my dad's death. I have spent the past 7 weeks talking solely about my dad's 35-year-long death and the effect it has had on me. There is so much anger, I cannot process it all. It will probably take me months and months to be able to do so. But I'll say this....I'm sooo tired of spending my money and time on my dad and his wife. Bless their hearts.