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Funeral For A Friend

Posted on September 19, 2005
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It is early morning, September 19th 2005. I sit in zazen upon my deck, facing East, and awaiting the morning sun. Practicing metta, I inhale and exhale to the rhythm of the many years I have been on this earth. It is cool, but I do not notice any discomfort. Gracie, my lovely Black Lab, whines softly in her sleep behind the screen door of the slider opening up onto the hardwood deck I so love. Soon, her exuberance will overwhelm me…

Saturday, the pipes called the Celts to pay homage and respect to a loved one. My mother, 88 years old and in poor health the past 6 months, has finally submitted her soul to the everlasting…

How she suffered these past few months! She fell at the end of August, breaking her shoulder, and several days later suffered a heart attack. My niece was with her at the time, so she did not suffer alone. She lay in the hospital following her attack, near death’s door, and the children were called to her bedside.

In the morning, this lovely old girl rallied, and we all received her blessings, her love, and her thankfulness for being at her side. This assurance from her was an uneasy peace for all of us. I told my lovely Rosie that I merely waited for the other shoe to drop.

Having recovered sufficiently to be placed in a special care unit, Mom continued her downward spiral. She developed thrush, pneumonia, and her frail old body suffered the indignity of bedsores. She was returned to the hospital, and put on antibiotics, which improved her condition to some extent.

Of course, it was only a matter of time for her. Her doctor asked the children their wishes, and Mom was taken off support and transferred to a beautiful hospice in the countryside near us. Twelve hours later, she was gone. At 3:30 AM, September 14th, she crossed over to the other side. The family gathered to view her remains, and she was then transferred to the funeral home. Fate had it that I would miss this part of the process, and it was not until 6:30 AM that I received the news of her passing…

On Thursday, we stood in the parking lot of the local florist, deciding mundane activites we could perform to relieve the suffering of the family. My brother, 66 years old, an ex-military man and still living in the boonies of Viet Nam, made one little request to me. It was the only thing he asked for, and I did everything in my power to fulfill it for him. His request was simple - play the pipes to honor Mother, and play “Amazing Grace.”

On Saturday morning, at precisely 11 AM, the Royal Dragoons piped those who loved her to gather around, and pay tribute. I doubt there was a dry eye in the house…

The gathering was not large. My mother, being 88 years of age, has lost most of her family and friends. One sister remains, and my Aunt Mabel was in attendance. Her twin brother’s wife, my Aunt Betty, was there, and various aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, grandchildren and great grandchildren gathered at her bier.

Present too were my best friend Bummer and his cronies, bikers of the best tradition, riding in on their iron horses made of chrome and steel, and bearing the legendary Harley Davidson logo. The thunder of their bikes is music to an old man’s soul. No one was surprised…

Her old reverend, Max McCloud, was in attendance, driving 150 miles from Vassar to pay his respect. At 76, he, too, reaches the end of his usefulness…

Being a son of the Buddha, I like to think that my Mom has reached enlightenment. Surely, she walked the Noble 8 Folded Path, and in life did not realize it. She was kind, compassionate, and caring of all sentient beings. What more could one ask?

I will miss her. I loved her dearly, and did not relish her suffering. But I know that my Mother has gone to the place of her wildest dreams, and is that not the wish of us all? And until the day I die, I will hear the pipes skirling in the early morning mist of a September morn whenever thoughts of the dear old girl come to me. And now I must say goodbye to Genevra Ione Smith, 1917-2005, and dedicate my remaining virtuous merit to this great old girl…

Peace,

Charlie~

Royal-Dragoons

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