The Funeral

It was a very surreal experience and for the most part was not overly emotional, for me. Obviously Der Deutscher was crying, very manly tears, throughout the ceremony. It didn't get to me until the very end, but first -- the beginning.

We arrived with Der Deutscher's paternal aunt and uncle. Many members of his paternal family attended the ceremony even though his parents are, were, divorced. Overall however the ceremony was small -- only about 20 people or so. That's the way Der Deutscher wanted it because that's the way he believes his mother would've wanted. He said he could've packed a cathedral if he'd advertised the funeral, which I don't doubt. His mother lived in the same city most of her adult life and knew a LOT of people.

The thing that struck me first as so unusual was the flowers. Each basket of flowers had two ribbons, about a foot wide, with a greeting or wish on it. The flowers on her coffin, a simple blonde wood coffin, said "Our loved mother and grandmother" on one ribbon and Der Deutscher's, JBP's and my name on the other ribbon. All the others were like that too.

After a short service in the chapel at the cemetery, we followed the coffin out to the gravesite. There had been a small spray of four yellow roses on the seat for me, but I'd handed them over to JBP to keep him occupied during the service which was in German. Although JBP did ask a few questions he hadn't yet seemed to really realize what was going on.

But JBP was then the first to follow the coffin out to the gravesite, walking slowly and carefully, carrying the flowers before him like a bride.

At the gravesite, the six pallbearers lowered the coffin into the grave the old-fashioned way -- using ropes and muscle power. When they were down, they removed their white gloves (folding them over each other inside out like doctors do) and tossed them into the grave with the coffin.

Then, some more short words from the pastor. After which we all tossed a small, ceremonial shovelful of dirt onto the coffin -- Der Deutscher first, then me, then JBP.

That's when it call became real for JBP and he broke down. It was the first time he'd cried since we'd told him his Oma had died. Otherwise he'd pretty much tried to avoid the subject, except to say occasionally that he wanted to go home.

But that was it. A few minutes later we all gathered at Der Deutscher's paternal uncle's house for brötchen, wurst and käse -- and lots of talk. Pretty typical post-funeral stuff. Memories, family, even the coming birth of one cousin who's baby is due Oct. 3rd.

Nimitz' Lady