08/24/2013

   I know I keep saying that I don't remember much about certain aspects of that most horrible week of my life, but in this case I really don't remember much about the final funeral. That's not to imply that it wasn't important to me or that I'm downplaying the significance of the young girl's life and death. It was just that we had been through so much. Three funerals on three consecutive days at three different churches. Trips to the same cemetery on three consecutive days to bury our children.Viewing services. All the business arrangements that had been necessary. The emotional roller coaster ride we'd been on for days. Out of town guests, visitors, calls, mail, flowers. Could all this have really taken place across a span of only eight days? Could it really have been only a little over a week since the accident that stole our son away from us? With everything we'd had to deal with, I felt at least a hundred years older. I know I was physically present at the last of the funeral services. I remember at the time feeling that it was a beautiful way to celebrate and say goodbye to Curtis's friend, but if I was forced to try to recall any specific details, I would be hard-pressed to do so. I don't think I had any more room in my heart, mind or soul for any more emotions. I had spent so much energy in trying to cope with my son's death and all that that meant, I had nothing left at that time for anyone or anything else. I do remember feeling a little guilty that I wasn't fully present during the service. I felt like I was on automatic pilot. With the completion of this final funeral, and the last burial service at the cemetery, I'm sure many people probably thought that our hellish week was over. In fact, several people made comments to us to that effect. It was true that the week of funerals and burials was indeed now complete, but I don't think even we fully yet realized at the time a very horrible truth-our real hell was just beginning.