The Longest Flight

For the second time in ten days I was flying 3,000 miles. This time it was to go to my mother's funeral. Funeral...it made no sense. Three months ago she'd been alive, vibrant and, seemingly, just fine. And now she was gone forever.

I remember looking out the window of the plane and wondering "how can everything just keep going on without her?". I certainly didn't think I could. Perhaps at 28 I should have been a bit more prepared for losing someone. In fact, when I was home for Jody's graduation my mom and I had a long discussion about death. For some reason I felt a dread that someone close to me was going to die. I believed it would be my father, exploding in a puff of his own anger some day. I shared that with Emmy who had lost both her parents before she was 35. She said "when you lose someone and feel terrible you're just being selfish...for yourself, because you're going to miss them. But the truth is they're in a much better place. And, they will always be with you.". I understood why she had been worried about me. I wish I were as sure as she had been that I'd be all right without her.

What I remember most about her wake and funeral were the flowers. So, so many flowers. Everybody loved Emmy. She was a great friend, a funny friend and a well-loved friend. The first afternoon of the wake was somber...but when we returned from dinner for the evening "session" the room was filled with tens of flower arrangements that had been delivered during that afternoon. Strange to say, I felt like a kid at Christmas reading the cards. It was a wonderful tribute to a wonderful lady.

It was then that I truly believed in God. Someone with as much faith as my mom couldn't possibly get gypped!

I finally had faith but I surely felt terrible.