So yesterday we buried dad in St. Michael’s Cemetery in Cudworth. Lorne returned home for his final resting place. With Fr. Dennis Phaneuf – who celebrated dad and Jean’s wedding twenty years ago – saying the Right of Committal, a small group of us prayed and buried dad’s remains. It was a peaceful and fitting ceremony and it was healing for me to see dad’s grave there not far from many of his relatives.
St. Michael’s Cemetery is a peaceful, though simple graveyard. When I was young I used to play there and help my grandpa cut the grass there. It is not a sad place for me. Even lowering dad’s remains into the sandy earth didn’t seem sad yesterday.
Following the committal, I toured around the cemetery paying respects to those who paved the way for me – those who made my life possible. My cousin Dawn showed me some of the graves of her relatives on the other side of her family and my aunt Gail showed me the grave of her father.
Then Doug, Rebecca, Roman and Gail and I talked about funerals and graves and spreading ashes and tombstones and final wishes etc. There was nothing morbid about it.
At previous funerals I have attended, the Right of Committal occurred immediately from the funeral mass/service. I had always found that to be the most difficult time. It becomes acutely apparent at that point that it is time to say farewell – that I will never again see that person in the same way as I have in the past.
Yesterday was different – partially because of the extra day to heal and partially because of grace, I guess. I also get a great sense of solidarity from that graveyard. My grandparents are buried there, my aunt Celia and several other relatives (many that I never met): Great Grandpa Joseph and Great Grandma Mary, great uncles and aunts. Those graves, and now dad’s too, make me feel connected to a lineage. It gives me a deep sense of place in the world.
After some time we went to Roman and Gail’s for supper. It was great to be back on the farm again so Joseph and Samuel could drive the combine and tractor and could just experience the land that Lorne grew up on. Land that has provided for my family and countless others. We even made a short tour to St. Leo’s Cemetery near the farm where my aunt Lillian and great great grandfather John Medernach rest. It was the place where my dad would have gone to church as a child, where he was baptised. The church is long gone but the Medernachs remain.
Soon enough it was time to go home. After a quick tour through Cudworth we finally passed the cemetery and I told my boys to say goodbye to Grandpa Lorne. And even though it had been a day of joy and healing for me, as Sam’s little voice asked “why do we have to say goodbye to grampa?”, the tears ran down my face again. He was right. We don’t have to say goodbye, we can say farewell and be comforted that dad is finally back home.
The first thing to note is that I have changed the title of my film to For the Love of Song or perhaps For Love and Song.
