Pass me a parasol

Sigh ... my mother's funeral was held on June 3, and despite the sad event it was, it went smoothly for all purposes.  While my father, siblings, and I easily made all of the choices one has to make for a funeral, it was clear that I was the one who had the strongest feelings about our tribute to my mother.  Although they love her as much as I do, my mother and I had another layer of relationship.  She was my best friend in this world, and although I am not the eldest child in my family, my siblings  honored my extremely close relationship with my mother by giving their sweet deference to my final wishes.  My mother even did so a few years prior to her death by allowing me to circumvent her original plan of burial.  My parents had purchased plots in a local cemetery long ago, but I was resistant to the idea of my mother being buried in a cemetery wherein she knew no one.  Over our many years together, death was a frequent topic of conversation between my mother and I, and I always told her that I wanted both she and my father (and myself) buried in my parents hometown cemetery when the time came, because that is where a good many of my mother's family are buried.   So, that's what we did, we held a church service in the town in which we live (my hometown), and then traveled 2.5 hours away to hold a graveside service in her hometown. 

When we got there, we were greeted by a whole different set of fellow mourners -- my father's siblings, my mother's brothers and other family relations, and people I didn't know.  After a short graveside service, we milled about on that hot humid day visiting with people we have not seen in a long time.  You can imagine the scene.  Everyone was fanning themselves with one of those funeral home hand fans, and drinking water from bottles plucked from the cooler provided by the funeral home.  While there was a tent provided, there wasn't enough room under it for everyone, and even if you were lucky enough to get a seat under the tent out from under the sun, the air beneath the tent was stifling hot.  The more outdoorsy folks were smart enough to bring their golf or stadium umbrellas.   I quickly gained a great respect for those prissy parasols ladies used to sport back in the day.  After visiting with everyone, we encouraged them to get themselves out of the heat, and we too took our own advice.  We drove away leaving my mother in a beautiful wooden casket covered with fresh flowers, at the foot of her aunt's grave, under a tent, beneath a scorching sun with nary a breeze to be felt. 

I miss her.
Such an understatement.