Can We Talk 2

Kaye's Funeral

         Today I attended the funeral of an older friend. I've only known her about 8 years or so. She's been suffering from Alzheimer's the whole time I've known her. She's gradually gotten worse. Yet she continued to sing in the choir, attend women's basketball games at the local university and go to concerts with her husband. In choir, we had to help her find her music, put on her robe, get to her seat, find her place in the music before we sang, and so forth. She interrupted rehearsal consistently to ask questions, but it became habit for all of us to take care of her.

         It reached the point where her husband could no longer watch over her at home. She went to a care facility without any balking. She couldn't remember who he was every day; yet, some days she remembered great detail. She was never hidden away or denied anything. He visited with her daily and took her out as often as she agreed to go. When the final decline came, it escalated. She went to hospice only a few days after being out and about. A week later she was gone.

         I knew this was her second marriage, and a long one at that. They both had been married for a long time and widowed before getting together in middle age. I had learned recently that she had been in the military when young. I did not know until today that she had been a nurse. Except for close relatives, I always learn something new about people at their funerals or memorial services. I used to find myself thinking I wish I had known this person better. Now I realize we can never really know everything there is to know about a person. Almost everyone in our realm of influence we could stand to know a little better.

         Today, with sleet tapping on the canopy at the grave site, military honors were performed. The muted bugle played, then the soldier with the folded flag knelt before the widower for the presentation. No matter how many times I hear it, it still brings a lump to my throat to hear the soldier say after his formal salute and slow kneeling, "On behalf of the president of the United States. . ." This isn't just a ritual. The deceased served his or her country in an active, and sometimes sacrificial way, and his fellow citizens are grateful. Perhaps because it is so formal and so final, that this part of the service is so moving to me.

         I will miss Kaye. I will miss helping her and testing her memory of old songs. She couldn't remember anything about the game she had just enjoyed a few hours before, but she knew all the words to any old Broadway musical. She couldn't remember which song we were performing today, but once the music started. she never missed a note. She was outspoken and smiled a lot. A lot of people will miss her.