This past trip to Las Vegas, while it was good to see my children and grandchildren, we were there to say our last goodbyes to their mother or their “baba.” I was also amazed at the red tape involved, as we had originally thought that we would do this a week earlier.  Municipalities and governments are on their own timetables.

My daughter lives there and my son moved back here about a year ago, but he and his wife flew out about three weeks earlier.  It was very surreal. I mean, sometimes I have felt like a professional mourner since my mother died when, I was fifteen and then my paternal grandmother died when I was sixteen.  Since that time, I have been constantly paying my respect, as I see fit.  There are still a few that are living in my parent’s era, and I am starting to see some of my older friends pass away.  It is much harder when one must attend a funeral for someone younger, even if they are a contemporary.  My children and a couple of their cousins made all the arrangements; I came in for support.  They had found a hall that would allow them to bring in their own food and caterer, as well as buying all the beverages.  We made quite a scene at one of the local liquor emporiums, and my Bride was also helping to coordinate incidentals for the two nights of mourning.

My main thoughts were for my children and to give them multiple types of support, whether they asked for it or not.  The first night, after the viewing at the funeral home they had music, Chinese food and the beverages; we did not go to the hall that evening, as we were still on Detroit time, and the viewing ended for us at midnight.  The next morning there was additional viewing at the funeral home, and I had to be the one to keep the timetable honored.  One of her nephews, who is an accomplished musician and lives in Paris, had just finished some concerts in Italy, and he flew out to pay his respects, he also played a tune that was requested, before we left for the church service.  He supplied the tradition, in the old days, the men would play their instruments as the mourners left the church to go to the hall for the honorary dinner; alas there were no musicians to maintain that tradition, so I appreciated her nephew’s gesture.   Her priest was very eloquent both at the cathedral and at the grave site.  I had my quota of fast food for the year that day, as I ate on the run, more concerned with the health of my children.  I was impressed that the planning of the two days still had the structure and feeling of the old days; which probably made it easier for all concerned. 

While we had delivered all the liquor and beer, the night before, I was told that I could bring a bottle of wine for our consumption.  I really wasn’t in the right frame of mind, and the proprietor of the hall, objected to my having the bottle on my table. My Bride reminded me that it is probably dram laws in the county or the state. At first I exploded, but then I calmed down, as my children didn’t need me to add to any additional aggravation.  I couldn’t eat, and as I reflect upon it, I don’t think that I have really eaten much at any family funerals, but only for friends or associates I have.   My Bride and I spent the day watching my children and grandchildren, and when we were sure that they were holding up, we left.  And all I could think of was the words of one of consistent funeral medleys for at least the last forty years that I can attest to “How do you keep the music playing…”