MY FIRST FUNERAL SINCE MY HUSBAND'S FUNERAL

There are a lot of firsts in widowhood. Some of them happened right after My Favourite Husband (MFH) died. Some of them months or a year into my journey. And one of them happened last month, more than 19 months into the new chapter of my life. 

I went to a funeral. The first funeral since MFH died. And I went by myself. 

I psyched myself out about it. I got inside my head. I thought about the service the luncheon. I imagined me extending condolences and knowing no words would be the right words. I thought about sitting alone in a pew and the fact that, in all my years of marriage, I knew the large, strong hand of MFH would cover mine and that love and comfort would flow between us.

I thought about crying and, if I would and if I did, could I stop? I thought about every possible scenario and I overthought about my reaction or reactions. 

At one point, I had myself wondering if I should even go but, if not now, then when? There would inevitably be a time for this first and it wouldn’t be easy, so why delay?

The funeral was for the father of a friend so, while I knew the gentleman who passed, I was going more for my friend, his wife and their children. I met them all through MFH and we were all part of the drag racing community for many years. It would be hard but it would be a gesture of support that was extended to me when MFH died and it felt right to return the kindness.

And so I went. To give myself the confidence to even walk through the doors of the funeral chapel, I made sure that I looked good on the outside. Then I looked after the important stuff: the inside. I said a prayer or two for the soul of the deceased. I said a prayer or two for the strength, comfort and peace of the family. And then I said a prayer for me, a prayer that I would be able to keep calm, be steady. I prayed my attendance would be support for the family.

I walked into the chapel, signed the guestbook and dropped off a card and donation in the box. I scanned the room for a familiar face and, seeing none, I selected a seat at the end of the pew where I could breathe deeply, calm my nerves and quiet my thoughts. I read through the funeral pamphlet and, feeling steady, I looked around the chapel and took in my surroundings. I avoided the temptation to pick up and scroll through my phone, and just absorbed the conversations as they flowed around me. 

I had been seated for about five minutes or so when this lovely gentleman asked if he could sit with me. Of course I said yes because having the nearness of another person at a funeral is a source of comfort. He started talking about the weather and, after a minute of so, I asked how he knew the deceased. He said he was more of an acquaintance but he was there to support the son who he knew through the drag race community. My response was similar which led to an exchange of names and car racing history. It turns out he knew my husband (as an acquaintance), although I don’t remember crossing paths with him. When I asked his last name, it triggered a memory from a lifetime ago. I said, “I know you, I think. I’m sure we went to school together.” When I told him my last name, he laughed because our schooling together was only elementary school yet he had a few memories of me.

We talked about marriages and families and who we still knew from school. And this was all done in under 15 minutes, prior to the service beginning.

When the service began, I was relaxed. Calm. I no longer had any anxiety about any part of the service because the bonds of my mental state had been shattered and I was left with peace. I don’t really know this gentleman but I sensed that if I had a hard time with the service, he would perhaps lend a hand of friendship and support.

Because of this, when the family walked in, I was able to catch the eye of my friend's wife and send her love. She waved at me and I waved back. She knew I was there for her.

At the end of the service, the family went to the cemetery and I was going to leave. My new connection asked if I wanted to go upstairs for a cup of coffee with him and I agreed. He sat with me, and racers came by the table and the talk turned to quarter-mile runs, ETs down the track and broken car parts. Oh, how I missed not talking racing! 

In between the conversations, I was able to say hello to a few familiar faces and quickly catch up. It felt so good to see people I haven’t seen in years.

I left after 45 minutes because, while the day had turned out well, it was still exhausting. 

My new old connection and I will hopefully stay linked through social media and I appreciate that. You can never know too many people.

I drove home from the funeral home proud of myself for having gotten through my first funeral alone. I also said a prayer of gratitude for the gift of sitting next to a kind man and the gift of a conversation that put me at ease. 

I wish I would’ve had MFH's strong hand to hold mine throughout the service but I knew he was there giving me love and support because I could hear his voice saying, “Babe, you’ve got this." And I did.

❤️