January is Over?

January blew by. On the last weekend of the month we had a memorial service for Dad. Per his wishes. He had even designed much of the service. He had selected a photo he wanted used, he had selected the 23rd Psalm and something called 'The Indian Prayer', and I knew without asking him that he wanted neither modern praise songs nor guitars played. He wanted our friend, June, to sing. He had always told June he wanted her to sing at his service, she just didn't think he'd make her wait until she was 84 years old. He wanted the pastor to speak but told me I could deliver the eulogy. I had a friend play the organ, chose a good hymn to sing while my friend accompanied on the organ (#98 from the pew hymnal "Great is Thy Faithfulness") and then, because this friend has a fabulous voice, had him sing a solo ("The Prayer" a la Andrea Bocelli and Celine Dion). For my part, I did a PowerPoint presentation of photos from Dad's life. I had accumulated a great collection of photos during the time Dad was living with us. I let the photos guide my talking points and just supplemented with a few notes on my iPad. If this sounds 'techie', it's only marginally so, because I eked out the slideshow and the pastor had to stretch the pictures to fit the screen on several of the shots. My old scanner would scan a photo to full size; my new one doesn't. June found a video of Dad and her singing a duet from 1994. They were cute and funny and they both had beautiful voices. Dad's voice sounded very good up until he was in his 80's. June just stopped singing solos very recently. 'The Indian Prayer' I had printed on the back of the memorial folder. It didn't seem like it was really 'Dad'. He had seen it on a friend's and liked it. Under its title I put: Our father specifically requested that this prayer be included in the program. For the weekend of the memorial, I had 8 family members stay with me at the house. I loved being able to host them and particularly loved that no one had to leave the gatherings to go to a hotel to sleep. Beth's family had Dad's room, my aunt and her husband had the middle bedroom, my niece and nephew and the niece's significant other had the guesthouse. I couldn't have been happier with the arrangement. Did everything go well? Yes! The family was helpful and easy-going, the service went smoothly, the deacons provided a light luncheon for everyone, and only two things had to be fixed, but were done quickly: I had forgotten a guest book and the pastor somehow started off the service reading the 23rd Psalm, completely forgetting that my brother-in-law was going to do that. So, Mark had to quickly find a backup scripture and settled on one of my favorites: I lift up my eyes to the hills where does my help come? and so on. Psalm 121. Good pinch hitting, Mark. My aunt and her husband zipped over to the local stationers and picked up a guestbook in minutes. I kept wondering what I was not remembering. Where was I dropping the ball? I called Dad's secretary and had her call some of Dad's friends in the medical community. I asked Beth if our half-siblings were coming. She said she had spoken to our brother who was not going to be able to make it but hadn't spoken to Sue. I decided that this might be an area where I had messed up. Another place I missed was re-publishing an announcement for the memorial service in the newspaper. I had published it on November 25 but had wanted to put it in again the Sunday before the service. Yes, the sister and the newspaper. Those are the places where the balls had dropped. I had thought we'd talk about it at length in Idaho but she didn't show up. After speaking with friends, I decided that the only way I could come out somewhat unscathed with the sister was to write what we'd called a fall-on-my-sword email to her and not mention her absence in Idaho.. I saidHey, Sue, Wow! I think I may have really dropped the ball on this one here. Dad's memorial is this Saturday and, although I thought you knew about it, it occurred to me that maybe you didn't. And I realized that if you didn't know, it is totally my fault. it meant so much to me to have you with me when Dad passed. You have such a gift for caring, and you were so tender and sweet to him in those last moments You knew exactly what to say and do for both me and him. Dad was so very fond of you and was so impressed with the woman you became. He truly like and cared about you. I know this is late, it's my fault, and I know you are busy busy busy but I wanted to let you know it would be great to have you here. I love you and hope you are well. I received a response from my sister the day after the service. She said: Hey, Cindy, I'm really sorry I didn't know about the memorial or I definitely would have been there. Hope it was a blessing for you and Beth and the rest of those who attended. I will not drive myself nuts trying to read anything into this note. Just take it at face value. There's another memorial for Dad in Ohio in May.