The Funeral

My dad died on May 14, 2007.

The 134th day of the year. 

A Monday.

The call came in the afternoon. My brother.

"I've got sad news, Stace. Dad died today."

I was standing at the bottom of the staircase. Speechless, sort of.

"Son of a bitch."

"I know. But at least we've got closure. It's not what we wanted but at least we don't have to wonder anymore."

It was true. We didn't have to wonder anymore. Wonder when he'd actually call. Wonder when he'd wake up and realize that he'd abandoned his kids. Three of them.

The service was on Friday. Good thing we were all available. Jesus. Funeral planned without his own children involved. Shitty. But not surprising. The step mother comfortably sits at the right hand of Satan. It's not even too warm for her.

And so we did what our mother taught us. We were good citizens. We sent flowers in advance. Showed up in suits, looking like we'd stepped out of a Nordstrom catalog.

It felt like us against the world. Three of us, plus three spouses. A team of six. Heading into a disaster.

Stopped at Starbucks a couple blocks away. Ordered my usual mocha. Wished it was a whiskey with a beer back. 

Turned around and ran into our aunt and uncle. Thank God! Our only relatives on that side. My grandmothers brother. He's filled in a big role in my life. He taught me to ski as a teenager and rollerblade as a twenty-something. He danced with me at my wedding and he makes me laugh. Really hard. 

He's buried his sister, his brother-in-law and his brother. And now he's there to bury his nephew. He's proof that a life well lived isn't necessarily fair.

Our team of six jumped to a team of eight.

It's odd. When you're the stranger. The front row is a hard place to be when you know that the 40 or so people behind you have no idea who you are.

And so the service started. The obituary read by the funeral guy. Preacher maybe. Not sure. Might have just been the owner of the funeral parlor. No idea. The information was wrong anyway for the 10 years or so that he was married to our mother. Oh well. Let that go.

Funeral guy gave us each a task. Think of one word that reminds us of Phil. Our father. Half our DNA. 

Shit, he's going to ask us for our words.

So, I tried to think of an innocuous word. Think. Think. Think. Really wishing I'd had that whiskey.

Funny! That's it. My dad was funny. Really funny. 

True. 

Safe. 

And then my brother leaned over and whispered, knowing my favorite word, he asked, "Is your word, fucker?"

"No! Although that's true. My word is funny."

"My word is absent."

Although fitting, it didn't seem appropriate. 

For a funeral. 

Fortunately we weren't called on.

#momfail

I'm a big believer in 'It Takes a Village'. Big believer.

Mostly because I'm alone with the children a lot.

I need help.

Often.

Literally.

Fortunately I've got some great friends who help out. Run carpool. Feed us on occasion, watch beasties. All the things. Really, really good friends.

I try to keep the asks to a minimum. I do want to be able to handle everything. Kiddos, work, home. Plus, who wants to annoy their friends all the time with cries for help?

But, somewhere in there... the children have figured out at the ripe old ages of seven and eleven that I am not good at everything. Or, anything really. It's gone beyond needing help. It's not that they think I can't handle the extras. Now we're at the point that they don't think I can handle the basics.

It's Halloween weekend. On top of the kid focused day we had two soccer games and a soccer party to handle. Why have a mellow weekend when you can have a very busy one?

Saturday morning I had The Angels over for breakfast. I've had a couple stressful weeks, needed some girlfriend time to chill out and catch up. We don't often meet at a home for breakfast. We're dinner and drinks people. Normally. But, I'm alone with kiddos and the above mentioned activities. If we were going to see each other, the window was narrow.

Needed to adjust the belt for the Supergirl costume that would be worn later in the day. A few stitches. Nothing major. The girl is tiny and the belt needed to be taken in several inches. This is a basic mom task. Something I can handle. I may not be super domestic. (I got a C in Home Ec.) But, I can handle basics!

As I pulled out the sewing kit, the girl eyed me suspiciously. "Are you sure you know how to do this?"

"Yes. This is simple stuff."

"Um, but isn't Becca on the way?"

Braided by Becca.

Seriously? 

P.S. That belt didn't slip off after hours of trick or treating. There may have been some safety pins involved but that belt stayed on. On!

The girl has had a cold. Started with a sore throat, now it's a cough. Which doesn't seem to bother her much but it's super annoying to anyone with ears.

"Hey. Why don't you come in the kitchen and get some cough medicine?"

'No. I'm fine."

"I really think you should."

"I'm okay."

And then Tracey adds, "Are you sure? I think you'd feel better."

"Well then, okay."

Oh. My. God.

The girl then asked both Tracey and Becca to braid her hair. This is something I don't even attempt. I can ponytail.

After the interviews, she settled on Becca. Who put it in a French Braid. She then told Becca that she was welcome to stay over for 45 more hours. I'm pretty sure that I was free to go at any time though.

Later at her soccer game, a fellow mom asked if I did the braid. The answer was no. Of course, not. To which she responded, "Oh, I thought maybe you watched some Youtube videos!"

Um, yeah. No.

Make up by Dani.

And, the day progressed on. A little downtime in the afternoon. Followed by the Halloween costume prep. The boy was going as The Joker. Ordered the costume on Amazon and grabbed green hairspray and a basic clown makeup kit at the grocery store. Neither of their costumes took much effort. Only thing truly required was an Amazon Prime account.

While we were outside, me spraying him down with a can of green hairspray  (because, no way, no how is that happening in the house), he asked, "Can we wait to do my makeup until we're at Dani's?"

"I guess. But it's only going to take a minute to do."

"I just think that Dani would do it better."

Aren't they supposed to think I am the best at everything? Don't I have more time?

I'm not ready for this!

Le sigh.