Alteration in blog purpose

I know that this blog was started to inform others on Scott's progress and now since that outcome  has been determined, that I should abandon the blog.  But selfishly, I am not going to just yet.  I find great solace in setting my thoughts and experiences to the pen (okay, keyboard but pen sounded more romantic-Jane Austen like). Daily, I have found so much to rejoice in and laugh about that it must be shared.  I consider this free therapy.  I do not even know if there will be any readers. I am not that tech savvy to find out yet but it is a balm to my heart.  So, if there are readers just consider the money you are helping me save on not having to seek professional help and the service you are rendering by  just "listening".

Yesterday came as I knew it would and more decisions needed to be made.  Luckily, nothing like the previous days.  On Jan. 1 2011, Scott and I took a drive to his old "stomping grounds" in Peoria and Glendale.  I know the exact date because in the midst of him showing me around, he showed me where his family is buried and he said, "This is where I want to be buried."  So, I dutifully noted it in my phone.  Where to have his body buried.... done.

Now for the decision of what to do with his body until it is buried, I was not prepared.  So, my decision making process began and thankfully I was not alone.  My dear sister Amanda played chauffeur  to my mother and myself.  I had narrowed it down to three destinations to visit.  As we started out, my sister used her phone to locate the nearest funeral home on my list.  When she saw its location she questioned if I knew what part of town it was located.  She said that  location was definitely not "Uptown".  For fun we started there anyway.  It was somewhat barricaded behind all the road construction continually going on near by and the business signs started appearing in a language other than English.  We missed the first entrance and found ourselves turning into a parking lot that had directly in front of us, a semi-professional sign in black lettering on a white background with the information... "All Pets Cremation Parking."  We were a bit stunned and a few unavoidable jokes had to be uttered. This could not be the right address!  The parking lot looked a bit abandoned, like some tenants had moved out long ago.  We ventured to the left a bit and found that "The Metal Shop" was an active business but still no sign of a funeral home.  We ventured more to the left and found it.  It was more comely and tidy than its neighbors but we decided to just drive around it to make sure it it was indeed an active business.  Yes, the hearst was there but we did not feel the need to get of the car to investigate further.  On to the next two choices.

We took a long drive to the east side of the city and found ourselves entering a very well manicured cemetery and mortuary.  Everything was beautifully kept and green with bright colored flowers on all the graves that had not already faded with time.  We passed several big mausoleums and family monuments. We arrived at the funeral home elevated on a slight hill with a little avery cage to the left filled with very white doves.  When we entered, we were promptly greeted and shown into the consulting room and given private labeled water bottles and offered personalized mints from the bowl on the table.  A middle aged man walked in with a polished mustache and demeanor. He looked confident in his dress, a sport coat and tie, as he handed us a gold embossed folder with information.  He was pleasant and seemed to know a bit about a LDS funeral service, throwing out some familiar   words, such as Relief Society.  He was helpful and courteous but not overly warm on a personal level and we left feeling that this was the "Ritz" of funeral homes and the prices certainly reflected that title.

It was time to check out the third option.  It was not the Ritz but it also certainly did not have neighbors the first option did.  This time we were helped by a young adult women dressed in black.  She was a bit more personal than our previous experience, asking us more about who we were arranging the service for and what we want we see happen.  There were mints on the table but no printed advertising on the label, just standard restaurant mints.  The folder that was presented to us was not embossed but had their logo printed on the cover.  She was also able to throw out few terms that demonstrated that their staff was familiar with how to run an LDS service.  She  helped us narrow our casket choice and gave her condolences as we left.  This could be an option. It was certainly a lower overall price than the previous option.

We all were getting tired of the process but we decided just for kicks and a good story that we would go back to the first place and actually go inside.  When we entered it was surprisingly clean and smelled nice with a calming decor.  We were kindly ushered into another room and asked to wait for the funeral director.  There were no mints on the table.  Then a young man in a white shirt and a tie (a familiar attire for Scott, he was wearing the same thing when he had his accident) greeted us and handed us some information on copied paper stapled in the corner- no folder.  He quickly put us at ease and spoke about what brought us there and genuinely seemed to care about who this person was and what were our thoughts and concerns. We found that he was a returned missionary and knew all about LDS services.  He knew the lingo and culture well.

The pricing was the lowest and I worried in my mind that although Scott always inappropriately joked about wanting to be buried in a refrigerator box (or SubZero box as the case may be), what would people think of me choosing the lowest priced place I found.  I was battling my pride a bit for I knew if the roles were reversed that Scott would have chosen for me the place with the white doves.  But this is Scott that I was making the decision for...where and with whom would his body feel comfortable?  We asked all the questions we could and as we got up to leave, I said something like, "I'll get back to you later when I have made the decision,"  thinking that perhaps the middle priced option was safest.

Then he ushered us into the foyer where there stood a woman waiting with a large plastic trash bag in her hand that seemed to carry all her earthly possessions.  Her age was hard to determine because of her browned and weathered skin from the sun.  Her attire indicated that she did not have a closet to hang clothes.  I would even venture to say that she did not even have a home to have a closet.  I thought that for sure the young funeral director would awkwardly and embarrassingly glance our way as we left, as if to apologize for the scene and gesture or say something to let us know that this was not typical clientele.   I was wrong.  Without hesitation he walked toward her and began a conversation in a kind and humble tone that showed he had no judgement, only concern for her needs and why she was there.  I was taken back a bit but it did not take me long to find the answer to the question of where and with whom would Scott's body feel most comfortable.  This director not only talked the talk but he walked the walk.  A body, such as Scott's, that housed a spirit that loved his fellowmen without judgement, needs to be handled and prepared by the same type of spirit.  It was not about the money.  It is about the feeling.

I cannot tell you how many times Scott would see a need of someone  and fulfill it or be approached by someone to give help and give it.  The reason why I cannot tell how many times, is he did not tell me all of the times he did so, probably because of my fearful and bothered reaction of where all the money went.  Yes, Allen Funeral Home is just the place where Scott's body will be comfortable for awhile.  While his spirit is in loving place, so is his body.

And I think Scott would be so pleased that I did not let my pride get the better of me.

Dessie