The Red Bag Chronicles - bag deflated

The red bag sits limp on the floor in our hotel room.  It is a melancholy thing to see it.  Larry has not been with us for two months, but the empty red bag makes it official.  Friday we placed the beautiful box with Larry's ashes inside a beautiful green vault along with a few treasures.  Yes there was a Neil Diamond cassette in there. We handed it off to Wayne the funeral home director and took our empty red bag to the hotel. 

Today we gathered with some extended family at Larry's gravestone where sat the beautiful green vault.  With the vault was a pretty container of red and yellow flowers and a yellow happy face balloon. There was a prayer followed by the reading of scripture,  the hymn In the Bulb, and a Eulogy that I wrote.  The 10 minute ceremony was finished off with my cousin playing "I'll Fly Away" on the trumpet as a happy face helium baloon was released.  The crazy Kansas weather provided cold and wind making that baloon fly away with considerable speed and making us all grateful the outdoor service was short.

A short time later a service was held at the funeral home in the little small town my folks are from. About 50 people gathered.  It was mostly aunts and uncles and cousins with some long time friends of my parents.  The service had been carefully planned by my mom and was very sweet.  The ceremony began with a welcome and memories from my mom.  It was followed by scripture, congregational singing, a reading of the obiturary and memory sharing.  The service was led by family and friends.  We honored Larry by sharing our memories.

Then we had a party,  There was cake, cookies, mints, nuts and of course Larry's favorite M & M's.  It gave us a chance to talk with friends and family that we rarely see.  We shared more stories of Larry.  Following this, the four of us (Mom, Dad, Peter and I) returned to the cemetary to verify that the vault had been lowered in the ground.  It had been.  Considering the Kansas wind had died down, we wandered around the cemetary as my folks pointed out the stones of other relatives and friends. 

And then it was done.

Presently in the hotel near the empty red bag sits an arrangement of sunflowers and red gerber Daisy's mom and I chose for the centerpiece at the service.  They are our present reminder of Larry and they make us smile.  Mom said today, "Larry would have like those flowers."  I think Larry would have liked it all - the way we said our fairewell.  There was sunflowers, baloons, M&M's, and some of his favorite music but most of all there was family.  One of Larry's favorite sayings was "let's do it as a family" when plans were being made.  Well today we said good bye to dear sweet Larry and "we did it as a family."

The Red Bag Chronicles - "what's in that bag?"

My brother was cremated.  The remains were placed in plastic, in a box, in a velvet bag and have been in mom's closet.  The funeral home recently gave my mom a beautiful carved wooden box instead of the cardboard one.  So today mom put the wooden box in the velvet bag and placed it in a small red handheld carry on bag. Along with it was his memory book, his death certificate, cremations certificate etc.  That carry on was definitely Larry's bag. And off we went to the airport.

It is funny the thoughts that would go through my mind and sometimes the words that would come out of my mouth.  Mom and I shared responsibility for carrying the bag.  At one point I put the red bag at Peter's feet and said with motherly emphasis "watch that bag! Don't let it out of your sight."  He who had spent most of the journey thus far with earphones in his ears said, "whats in the bag?"  Without hesitation I said "your Uncle Larry." More than once someone said "who has Larry?" 

We had researched carrying ashes on the airplane and spoke with the funeral home.  The funeral home assured us there was nothing to worry about.  When we were passing through security and the TSA guy said he needed to look in the Red Bag, over protective sisterly  concern  went into overdrive.  He pulled us asided and when he opened it Larry's memory book appeared on top.  Mom is such a smart packer.  I told him, that bag has my brother's remains.  With that big "don't mess with my brother" look in my eyes and probably my mother's sweet face, he didn't have a chance.  Quickly the bag was released and we were on our way with "Larry".  I must say there was relief because getting him through security had been one of my concerns.

After the security check, I was carrying the red bag much like one cradles a favored stuffed animal or a small dog.  The contents were heavy and we were being careful that the strain of the heavy load did not rip off the handles. Mom told me to let her know if it got heavy.  The first thing that popped into my head (and soon out of my mouth) were the lyrics "He's not heavy, he's my brother."  I don't know the name of that song or who sings it but it will never be the same. 

The thing that kept floating through my head was how this was Larry's easiest trip to Kansas.  Traveling was tiring and challenging for Larry in many ways.  But not today.

I know some of these tales can sound crude but the fact is Larry is not in the red bag.  The remains of his physical body are there.  however the real Larry is with Jesus. He is not here.  But burying Larry's remains is part of the process.  It is part of saying goodbye. And somehow I can't help but think that the humor that comes from carrying his remains in a red bag helps with the pain and sorrow that we feel.

The Red Bag Chronicles - The disclaimer

Tonight I am in Kansas.  We have come to say our final goodbyes to my brother. It has been an interesting day. You see we carried my brother's ashes with us on the plane.  This is all a little weird lending itself to some pretty warped humor.  I would love to share this journey via the blog. .  However I realize the stories of our carrying my brother ashes in a red bag on the airplane and the funny things thought and said may be just too "off" for some folks.  So if that is you, you might want to skip the entries titled "The Red Bag Chronicels" as it will be the tales of our journey to Kansas to bury Larry's remains.

Gone

Looks like Baby Bird flew the nest today.

And our tickets are printed so we will be taking off soon too!

Drama on the Porch

Over the past several years birds have build a nest in the eaves of my front porch.  Last year the spot was empty and I was sad.  This year a new spot, very close to the door was chosen and a nest appeared.  They even pulled some of their building supplies from my porch table décor.  What type of bird?  My friend told me but I don't remember.  Anyway it is typically a very fun process to watch the nest appear and then hear the chatter of babies etc.  Last week the mama and papa were not hovering around the nest, flying off whenever I opened the door.  Granted I had not gone in and out of that door a whole lot.  None the less, things were quiet and I had begun to think, they had abandoned.  Monday when I went out the front door, a bird flew off but there was still someone in the nest.  I thought it was the mama.  Then I noticed on the nearby power lines, mama and papa bird eyeing me.  That was a baby in the nest.  She looked big.  And my friend suggested that she looked blind.  After climbing on porch furniture to get a better look we concluded that there were 2 babies.  Yet something still didn't seem right. Today I went out to find a baby on the ledge, beside the nest.  Mama and Papa are eying my warily from the power line.  I don't see a sign of baby number two.  So I am not sure what is going on but it feels off.  Either this baby cant fly because of some disability or simply wont sit in the nest anymore because there is a dead sibling.. Baby bird drama. My first reaction is of course I would have the nest with the "special needs bird."  And I am a mess.  Not because I am like this "save the baby bird" person.  It is because there are needs and perceived trouble and I don't know how to fix it.  I feel responsible.  I want to make it all better. And I just don't know that there is anything to do.

 

Today we are preparing for our journey to Kansas for my brother's memorial.  Maybe that is where the anxiety over the birds really begins.  There is much to do today but not sure where to start. I feel somewhat responsible for getting us all to Kansas and back.  I am concerned for Dad who's physical  and emotional strength are slight, for mom who looks tired, and Peter who well is just 16 and going to visit relatives he doesn't know for vacation.  And though I think we are all ready for the closure of the memorial service, saying goodbye is never easy.   

One of "those kids"

In my school we have those kids who are adored yet predictable.  They are the ones who do not handle a change in routine very well.  They need lots of warnings before transitions.  "Five more minutes and then we clean up."  "Two more minutes then we go inside." They are the kids that can freak out with an unexpected fire drill or a sudden change in plans.  And when those events occur, staff goes into overdrive to help those kids through transition trauma.  Helping those kids is what I do in my job.

 

Today I realized that I am one of "those kids."

 

While I was away from work last Friday helping with a wedding some changes occurred at my school.  During Friday's teacher workday, it was announced that I am being moved from my current large 3 and 4 year old classroom to a smaller classroom to teach 2 and 3 year olds.  I was made aware of the change via an e-mail this Monday morning.  I didn't freak out.  But I realized everyone thought I would.  Throughout the week I have had a variety of staff come up and ask me how I was with that look of caution in their eyes. When I say I am really fine the look changes to one of surprise.  I have had it occur numerous times this week. That is when it finally dawned on me.  I am one of "those kids." 

 

I do not transition well.  I have known that for some time but did not realize how much everyone else realized it.  But the truth is I am the teacher who needs e-mails of changes, days in advance. I am the person who wants the schedule for events way ahead.  I am the one who freaks out when I am informed that they are pulling one of my class staff, as they are pulling them.  You see, I am not all that different from the children that I teach.  I am transitionally challenged. 

 

The thing about "those kids" is sometimes they will really surprise you.  Staff is on guard ready to intervene when the tantrum starts.  It is because we love them and we want to help them through it.  And then while we are waiting for flapping and flailing, that kid is calm and cool rolling right along.  We stand in awe.  We do the happy dance and offer high fives, high tens and twenties. It is a moment for rejoicing.

 

My coworkers surprised me.  I felt really loved by their concern and care.  Evidently I surprised them as well. I didn't flap or flail.  (Well just a little today when I was sorting and packing my classroom stuff for the move to my new room.) For the most part I have welcomed the change with acceptance and even appreciation.  I am making the transition and not freaking out, not yet anyway. And that is cause for rejoicing.

 

 

 

Hospital Visits

So I went to the hospital after church today.  No, I was not hurt nor was I visiting anyone.  I was craving a good sandwich, specifically a chicken salad sandwich.  I kept thinking of the one I had one evening while Larry was in the hospital.  With the hospital just a half a mile from the house, I decided to go to the hospital cafeteria to get a sandwich to take home so I could picnic in my yard.  I was a little disappointed when the only sandwich in the case today was a turkey one.  I bought it anyway.  It did feel a little weird to be at the hospital cafeteria when I had no one in the hospital.  It felt a bit like cheating.  However the food is good and reasonably priced so I will probably make a "food only run" to the hospital again sometime.  What I didn't know is that I would be back at the hospital later in the day.

 

This evening  I received a call from Peter's school.  He had cut his head and needed to go to the ER.  I met him there.  He has a nice little one inch slice on his forehead just at his hair line.  The story is he was jumping the stairs in the stairwell on his way to Formation. Knowing Peter, I can totally see him jumping the stairs in the stairwell. He hit the cement wall but didn't know he had cut it until another cadet pointed it out.  The ER staff super glued his wound and sent him back to school.  The sad news is he has a sports restriction for the next two weeks.  Spring Football starts tomorrow lasting just about two weeks. He was disappointed as he was looking forward to their getting helmets tomorrow.  He worked really hard to get the nurse to also get him excused from marching.  But she and I agreed that his chances of a head injury while marching were slim.  But then who would have thought he would get a head wound from simply going down the stairs.  The good for Peter in all of this was he got Pizza and Root beer on the way home.  And for me, well Peter was funny and we had some good conversation. I am always grateful for that.