I have several friends who were amazing through this whole process, but 2 of them had been through the same thing I was going through. They lost their husbands when their children were young. They were my guides as I moved through these days. They talked to me, they listened to me and they encouraged me. They tried to prepare me for those two days. I remember them coming through the line and all I remember say to them was "you forgot to tell me I would be comforting everyone else." That is your job as all these people come through the line. Give hugs, console, listen.
The time had come for us to leave the house and go to the funeral home. Kevin's friend Tim is here from California. He had promised Kevin he would be there for his family. Tim will be my driver for the next few days. We get to the funeral home and go through all the particulars, where to stand, how the line will go, water in the refrigerator. Then I see our friend Mike with the Correction Officers Honor Guard, I am relieved he is there to direct them.
It is just about time. The Honor Guard is in place, the boys are there with me lined up, I think we are ready. I look down and see my two little boys so strong, so brave, standing ready to greet these people they don't know. The afternoon wasn't so bad, not too many people. There was a constant flow but nothing crazy. The evening was three hours of nonstop people. People stood in line for an hour waiting to talk to us. Kevin was well known, well liked and involved in many things. Then add my friends and co-workers, the boys friends and teachers, and family and you have a sh-- load of people. I don't remember everyone that came through, certain people stick out in my mind for different reasons, a parent of one of my students with a hand made card, the boy scouts all in uniform, and 100 masons lined up for the masonic service. I remember Nate standing there with a box of tissues for people as they got to him because more times than not they were crying. I remember consoling people, hugging people, and watching my boys grow up right there before my eyes talking to people like grown up men. That was one of the longest days of my life.
The second longest day was the next day, the funeral. We got to the funeral home and I was strong and stoic until the very end when I had to say goodbye. Then I fell apart, Tim had to walk me out to the car as I sat there in tears, the boys were getting directions on being pall bearers. We get to the church and I come around the corner and there are bagpipes and the honor guard. I am not going to make it through today. I start to cry. The 4 boys then line up with their uncle, Kevin's brother and 3 cousins, one to represent each family and begin to carry in the casket. I follow them in the church. We get inside and I see a church full of people, every pew is full and people are standing, I am beside myself. All I say to myself is breath, you can do this. Again I don't remember everything. There are somethings that stick out in my mind, our friends Beth, Alec and Sara singing, a different parent of one of my students there, and as each person comes by for communion they touch my shoulder, hug me or grab my hand.
Now Kevin had quite the sense of humor, as we sat there in church the organist finishes playing a song and all of a sudden the book fell and hit the keys. I had to laugh, all the years going to church that has
never happened. I know Kevin did it. When the service was over the procession moved outside, more bagpipes, more honor guard, now the folding of the flag. Standing there I see the casket start to move toward the car, I see my brother in-law move to stop it, I start to laugh, my sister and sister in-law move to console me I turn and they both are surprised I am not crying. Kevin was done, he was saying enough of this B---s--- go to Sweeney's already. He hated being the center of attention. I get the flag and they move him into the car. It is time, this is it, I have to say my final goodbye. I reach in, touch the casket and tell him I love him. Then he is gone and I am here alone, but not really.
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