el alma es eterna

On the day of the service the weather was beautiful, the family appropriate (we once had a fist fight between two female relatives at the wedding of one of my aunts, so I have reason for concern), and the service was . . . unsettling in the moment, but in retrospect, just right. I had sent the minister a longish email about my Mom for background, which he read (after asking permission) as the sermon/eulogy. I was a little freaked out. I'm always uneasy about my writing -- and now here it was being read out loud and in front of people -- but I think the anxiety about the reading took some of the edge off the sadness. On Monday, my aunt and I went into the woods by the house and scattered some of the ashes. I'll scatter some more in the park across the street from this house, and inter the rest in the family plot in the cemetery near Valhalla (yes, really). And then settle in for the long adjustment.

I have come to appreciate the wisdom in what I once thought was ridiculous and self-indulgent -- the formality and protraction of Victorian mourning customs. The whole first year after a death really isn't the time to make big decisions about the present or the future. It's a time to muddle through with all the "first time withouts." There is more clarity after a year has passed. I'm not keen on the fetishizing of small and large memorabilia, but I understand the impulse. I also understand the impulse to throw everything out and start over. Neither is a wholly good idea. Patience is a good idea. Waiting and seeing. Picking up threads here and there and seeing what holds. Observing the formalities. Letting the sadness settle. Getting out more.

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and for you
And I think to myself -- what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue, clouds of white
Bright blessed days, dark sacred nights
And I think to myself -- what a wonderful world.

The colors of a rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands, saying "How do you do?"
They're really saying "I love you."

I hear babies cry. I watch them grow.
They'll learn much more than Ill never know.
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world.

I think Satchmo was right, don't you?