I’m a little reticent to bump this, but the memorial service was today and I totally can’t sleep, despite being exhausted, so I’m going to share some stuff about what’s been going on. Feel free to let the thread drop without responding, I’m really not trolling for attention or sympathy here (much as I appreciate all your messages).
So – the memorial service was today. We’re Quakers, so the service was held in the meetinghouse of the school where my sister teaches (and which is the alma mater of her and her husband and my brother, though I didn’t go there … long story that isn’t relevant).
Wonderful turnout – there were at least 200 people there, maybe more – family (such as we are) and friends, people who went to school with them, people who worked with Don, his riding buddies, Pat’s coworkers (plus a few students), and a bunch of I don’t know who the hell they were. Everyone gathered, then Pat came in, escorted by me and their oldest and best friend, and we sat in the facing benches, where the elders usually sit. Our brother and his family, our cousin, Don’s cousin, and a few friends sat in the facing benches with us, and other very old and very dear friends sat in the first row.
One of Pat’s and Don’s oldest friends, another Quaker, welcomed everyone and explained how Quaker services work – we sit in silence until moved to speak, with words of remembrance or of comfort, allowing time for people’s words to sink in between speakers. What is not usual is that three of us who knew we wanted to speak did so before opening it up to the congregation – I started, then the old friend who escorted Pat, then Don’s partner of about 25 years, who’s known him for 40 years. They both wrote something out, but I just spoke from the heart (though obviously I’d thought in advance about what I wanted to say). I’ve known Don since 1967, when I was 12, so I talked about that, then about how he and Pat had me come live with them the summer of 1971, when they’d been married all of a year – my parents’ marriage had gone up in flames, I was stuck out in California with a front-row seat to some seriously bizarre and painful shit, and they totally rescued me. That was the beginning of his treating me as his own sister, which continued to the present. My voice broke a bunch of times and I had to stop and take deep breaths more than once but I got through it without sobbing. I also got several laughs, intentionally, so that was good also.
After the three of us, a variety of people spoke, including the two young-adult (23 and 25) kids of a couple who are friends so long they function as family – we do holidays with them, go on vacation with them every summer, etc. Pat and Don were unable to have kids, so these two are very special to them, and their words meant so much. (The boy, 25, was up from Atlanta, where he’s working, and the girl actually came in from Uganda – yes, Uganda – where she’s working for an economic development NGO. She was in London last week for a work thing which made it a trifle less insane that she came.) Other speakers knew him less well or for not as long, but all shared stories about his generosity and his meticulous attention to detail – and a lot shared funny stories, so there was a lot of laughter along with the tears.
Then we (and the other family members, cousins, etc.) went out before the meeting ended, to have a moment as a family, then we went out for a punch and cookies thing. Lovely sunny day, so that was outside.
The first person I saw walking out of the meetinghouse was, believe it or not, an old boyfriend of mine – someone I broke up with 15 years ago. He had seen the obituary in the paper, and since we spent a fair amount of time with Pat and Don during the three years he and I were together, he decided to come. It was such a lovely gift to see him – I was so terribly pleased he came. We swap Christmas cards and the occasional email, but I hadn’t seen him since we broke up. I guess that could have been weird, but I was so touched. He ended up coming back to the house for the thing there, along with probably 75 or 100 other people – some women who went to school with Pat and Don organized it, brilliantly, as a potluck with much delicious food and lots of stories and reminiscing and catching up. Saw a lot of people I only see occasionally, some I haven’t seen in 10 years, and others I haven’t seen in 20 or 30 years.
Don’s brother did come to the service, though he didn’t sit with the family, so we went into the service thinking he hadn’t come. Long story, he’s out in California, … long story. Let’s just say the brother didn’t come to his own mother’s memorial service four years ago and leave it at that.
So the service was at 2, and the last people didn’t leave till 9, and after doing a last lap around the downstairs to turn out lights and pick up a last few glasses and plates (the organizers had also cleaned everything up), we came upstairs. I read for a while and turned out the lights, but after lying there totally wired for an hour it became clear I wasn’t going to go to sleep right then, so I decided to make myself some cocoa and see what’s what at the Dope.
