07/15/2013

   I can't remember all of the details of our meeting with the mortuary counselor. I do remember all of us sitting in a tight group around his desk because no one wanted to sit outside. I do know we were asked to make decisions about things we had never thought about before-flowers, music, pallbearers, a minister, a location, burial, cremation, markers, a casket, etc. We decided on the things we could, other things would have to wait until a later time. I do remember how kind and patient the man seemed to be with us. I know that's his job, but I never felt rushed or pressured to decide things right away. He did his best, but this was the most awful meeting I'd ever been in. As I said before, my wife and I had both been involved in these things before, but nothing we'd ever experienced in any part of our lives had prepared us for a moment like this. To have to think about such things, to have to consider what Curtis would want just seemed to be so totally unnatural and unthinkable that it was virtually impossible to believe that this was actually happening. I t wasn't until we went into the casket display room that it really began to come into focus for me (at least for a few minutes) that yes, indeed, this horrible possibility was all too real. I remember all of us looking at the caskets trying to decide on colors and styles. There was the sound of crying and tissues being pulled from tissue boxes around me. After several minutes, we'd made decisions with which everyone seemed comfortable. I remember Carly saying, "I think Curtis would like all of this." I was wishing that he was there to speak for himself, because, obviously, if he were, none of this would be necessary, and we could just go home. As it was, we all went back to the main office to finish up. Now, earlier in our discussions my wife had asked about our son's body. We wanted to know when the coroner's office would release his body to the mortuary and when we would be able to see our son. At this point, we had not been told the condition of our son's body after the accident. The counselor told us that the coroner's office would be closing early that afternoon (this was a Friday) and would be closed on Monday due to the President's Day holiday, so the mortuary would not receive Curtis's body until Tuesday. That would affect when we could schedule the services.  It also meant that we would not be able to see our son for several more days and that he would be in that terrible place by himself until then. That thought was extremely upsetting to me. As we were ending our meeting, it seemed to me that in spite of the difficult decisions we'd already had to make, there were still many more ahead of us. The counselor reminded us of the things we still needed to do and that he would be in touch early next week. As I thanked him for all his help I thought how odd that sounded-to have to thank someone for helping us dispose of our son forever.