Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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My Mother’s Body Got Lost

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featured on bloghercasket

I’m trying to plan my mother’s funeral, but we have a problem. We can’t find her.

My mother passed away Saturday after a long illness. I had all the funeral arrangements planned months in advance, so I was prepared when the inevitable happened. After she died, I contacted the proper authorities to transport her body 100 miles to her hometown of Wendell, Idaho for the funeral and burial. Some things don’t always go as planned. Two days later, we know that the body is gone from her assisted living facility but it’s not in Wendell. This is a cause for concern.

During the past few years, my mother has been lost in dementia. Even after moving her to a secure nursing home in Boise, there were times when I visited and couldn’t find her. The staff and I would search the facility and find her in someone else’s room and the two residents would be talking about their old times that never happened. No harm was done, and we gently, lovingly participated in their storytelling. But, I always knew she was somewhere inside the building.

Today I called the funeral home in Wendell and they hadn’t received the body. How do you lose a casket? I thought I had completed all the necessary arrangements, but I wasn’t familiar with the procedures for this dilemma. I used my inside voice and calmly requested that somebody do something. I called back an hour later and needed to employ my outside, aggressive tone. This last resort has been known to get immediate results and leave people trembling. I’m not proud of this trait, but it works.

At last, I received a call from Wendell that they had found her body still in Boise and the transportation was being arranged. A few hours later, I received a call that said she was near Bliss, a tiny village along the route.

“Of course she is,” I responded.

I hope she had a nice weekend and enjoyed having the last word. But, Mom, now it’s time to go home. Please.

Planning a funeral is similar to planning a wedding. Family and friends come together, some cry, music plays, and people wave goodbye. Except, at a funeral, the goodbye lasts a long time. This last momentary interruption is my mother’s way of telling me I’m not always in charge of everything. Somewhere, my parents are laughing.

 

 

 

Buried in the Nice Robe

By

leona 1946

My mother died yesterday. She was 87 and her health had been failing for several years, she was confined to a wheelchair and lost in dementia. Her passing brought a wide range of feelings, from relief to sorrow. As her designated power of attorney, I had the duty to make the final arrangements.

“What do you want her to wear?” the gentle woman from Hospice asked as she took notes.

“The nice robe,” I answered. “With the pearl necklace.”

The woman stopped writing and peered at me, unsure of what I had suggested.

“You want her buried in a robe?”

So I told her why. In 1969, my father traveled to Japan on a business trip and brought back an elegant silk robe as a gift for my mother. They had been high school sweethearts; he was the gregarious student body president and she was the timid valedictorian. He wasn’t one for giving gifts, and she wasn’t comfortable accepting them.

Over the past 45 years, I have asked her why she never wore the robe, and her answer always was the same: “It’s too nice.”

That’s how she lived, protecting special objects in her life that she never felt worthy enough to enjoy. She never burned the fancy candles so they melted in storage. The good china dishes and silverware only came out at Thanksgiving and Christmas. And, she saved and reread every birthday and holiday card she ever received. (I have inherited this trait, and it’s a tough one to break.)

To arrange for her service, my to-do list is filled with complicated assignments. How do I get the headstone engraved? It’s been waiting at my father’s grave since 1989. How do I condense her amazing life into a 300-word obituary? Should I request that in lieu of flowers, people can contribute to the scholarship she established at the University of Idaho? The donation would be nice, but she also would love the flowers. She’d say she didn’t deserve them and they were too nice, but she would love flowers. The only easy decision I had to make was what she would wear for her final outfit. Two weeks ago, I had the robe professionally cleaned and ready.

She’ll be wearing the nice robe for the first time at her funeral service next week. And she’ll have on pearls. She always wore pearls, even with her favorite cozy sweatshirts ordered from the Country Living catalog. She’ll be beautiful.