Saturday, December 31, 2011

paternal obsequies and poetic truth

My father's memorial service was today, the last day of the year 2011. He died on his eighty-first birthday, December 16, 2011. By my count, about 200 people attended the memorial service: mostly friends, some family and acquaintances. My mother is getting a lot of support from her Asheville friends; still, I understand she is planning to move to the Buffalo, NY area to be closer to her daughter, my sister Susan, her only other child. Still, it is good to see all the friends and support she has.

My sister and her husband, my uncle, one of his children (my cousin), and her daughter are visiting, and two couples particularly close to my mother also came to the house this afternoon. After all but family had left, we were talking about how things had gone (for both the death and the ceremony), and there was general agreement that it could have been worse. Someone said, "It could have been worse, but it still can suck," and my mother, who is not given to profanity, said, "Yeah. It sucks underwater."

She was tired, I'm sure, and the phrase "It sucks underwater" might not make literal sense. But there is a poetic sense to it that feels right, and it was my mother's response to the moment. I think it's perfect.

It sucks underwater.

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