Lights Will Guide You Home, Mom

This song was played on repeat throughout my Mom's funeral service. Feel free to play it as you read along...

My Mom's funeral was held just a few short days after she passed away. While the service itself was personal, there are a few details I wanted to share on my blog.

The visitation was held on a Friday evening. The funeral home was filled with the scent of beautiful florals. The delicate aroma of flowers will forever remind me of my mom now. After a private viewing for family only - friends, acquaintances, and even people who had never personally met my mom came to pay their respects. I was overwhelmed with the number of people who filled the parlor. I was greeted with the warmest hugs and deepest condolences. I could truly feel the love right there in that room.

It's easy in those moments to get carried away with all the friends and family members mingling about. The hugs, the "I'm sorry's," the catching up. But, it's in the moments when you look into someone's eyes and see the pain, that all the emotions flood back into you. I looked at my mom's best friend [whom I’ve always called ‘Aunt Linda’] and my heart broke... again. I could see the devastation, the shock, the grief. She was left here on Earth without her best friend of over 50 years. She's left with the hope that my mom would somehow find a way to "call" her, like she promised to do just hours before she died.

The following morning, my Mom's service was held in the chapel. Again, I was humbled to see nearly every seat filled as we honored my mother that day. She was loved. So very loved.

The service was the most beautiful service I could have imagined. I stared ahead at the picture of my mom, rubbed my brother's back, and leaned on my Dad's shoulder. We were all hurting. And there was the picture of my mom with eyes as blue as the shirt she was wearing, just smiling back at us.

After my two brothers, my nephew, and I shared some words about my Mom, the pastor started his eulogy. About half way through, the door of the chapel gently opened by itself and the pastor said, "Come on in, Carol!" She was there. I know it.

We departed and the procession drove to my Mom's final resting place, in the same cemetery where we had gone for years to visit her own mother's grave. She had a beautiful spot in the sunlight picked out just for her [and my dad to join her one day.]

I sat there, in front of my mom's casket, still in shock. I shed some tears and tried saying the last words to her that I could conjure up. The funeral director let us take the metal rosettes from her casket to keep with us. I took several roses from her flower arrangement as well.

I knelt down, resting my hands on the top of the casket, and cried with her. I knew my moments with her physically were over. I had given her my last hug, kiss on the forehead, and held her hand for the last time. But, this was the last chance I had with the symbol of her physical form here on Earth. Although she may be gone, she will forever be my sweet Mom.