The funeral took place in Red Wing, Minnesota, about an hour south of where my family and I lived. We were staying in a hotel because the wake was the first night and the funeral the next day. I didn’t even know what a wake was until this experience.
I remember getting ready in the hotel room. Every one of my family members had little or nothing to say. How does one prepare for the wake of a baby? I had only seen her one time in her short life. She was born in the fall and attended either the Haider Thanksgiving party or the Haider Christmas party, I can’t remember, but she was a sweet little girl and I was lucky enough to hold her for a time. Nobody knew that it would be the last time any of us would see her. These unsettling thoughts flooded my head as we combed our hair and put on our dresses.
Once we were ready to leave, I looked at the six of us and believed that our dark, drab clothes perfectly expressed the sadness we felt on the inside. We slowly walked to the car, piled in and quietly drove a torturous ten minute drive to the funeral home. I had a million thoughts running through my head and my worst stomachache to date. Then in the blink of an eye we arrived.
I swear to you that I have never forgotten the smell of that funeral home. Even though Lilys are beautiful flowers, their bouquet will always remind me of that gorgeous baby’s funeral and the unbelievably chilling atmosphere. I had never seen my family in such despair. There were no smiles, just countless tearful embraces. Haider family gatherings were usually loud and full of laughter but not today. Losing that baby girl had broken everyone’s heart.
My sisters and I huddled together, unsure of where to go and what to say. We simply hugged anyone who walked by while shaking our heads and wiping our noses. And then I saw it. As the sea of people thinned out, Kimmie’s open casket became visible. I started to panic. Knowing that she had passed was one thing, but actually seeing her dead body was another. Anxiety shot through my limbs and I felt as though I would collapse. My dad must have noticed my elevated stress level because he walked over to me and gave me a hug.
Somehow he calmed me down and through some carefully chosen words, he convinced my sisters and me to approach our baby cousin. I cannot remember what he said exactly, but it must have been good.
We held each other tight and sobbed as we moved closer and closer to her. She looked beautiful. I could not believe that that little baby was alive one minute and gone the next. Why…why…why…?
I was so mad. So mad I could not see straight. Her little life was way too short. She did not get enough time to experience life and we didn’t get enough time to get to know her. Tears were streaming down my face as these thoughts sped through my mind.
Then, for some unknown reason, my body went against all of my impulses and I found my hand reaching out to touch her. She looked so soft and warm but in reality, her face was rock hard and cold to the touch. My heart nearly stopped and it was at that moment that I decided to step away from the body that used to house my cousin. The reality of death had just become too much for me to handle.
As I backed away, I noticed Kimmie’s older brother and sister running around the room. They were about two and three years old and seemed to be having a great time. They were dodging in and out of people, running up to the casket, touching Kimmie then running away. It was all very innocent yet slightly disturbing. They would never remember her, how could they? The thought made my stomach turn. It was the last time they would ever see their little sister and they were too young to know better.
The last thing I remember about that wake was the conversation Shelly and I had with my uncle. He sat down with us and just poured his heart out. He was so angry at the loss of his little girl. He wanted answers and knew he would never get them. He wanted her back and knew that it was impossible. He sobbed and we sobbed. It was the saddest moment I had ever experienced. If I could have taken away his pain, I would have. He was such a loving father and all he wanted to do was share that love with his daughter Kimmie.
I can’t tell you how the conversation ended because I was wiped out, I was pushed to the edge of hysteria. The wake forced emotions out of me that I would not wish upon anyone. And the fact that my family had to go through such debilitating pain made me physically sick. I was not sure how I would make it through another day. But as much as I resisted it, another day came. The day of Kimmie’s funeral.
As I walked into the church, I was again blasted by the smells of Lilys. Why do funerals have to ruin such a beautiful flower?
As I scanned the pews, I saw friends and family members forcing back sobs yet allowing tears to fall. And that damn casket, the symbol that is supposed to assist us in the grieving process, sat in the middle aisle like a knife stabbing every one of us in the heart. Nobody could look at that small visual without choking up. It was truly one of the worst sights I have ever seen.
I wanted that service to end almost as much as I feared for it to begin. That’s the thing about death—it's a no win predicament.
Like it or not, the priest eventually started the service and it was awful, just awful. We all just held on to one another and cried. There was nothing else we could do.
Then, the priest turned to my aunt and uncle and motioned them to the altar. Apparently, they were interested in addressing their loved ones. I was shocked. I could barely speak without sobbing, how in the world would they be able to say anything?
My aunt spoke first. She stood up at that podium and cried through her entire monologue. She told us of a dream she had that contained a number of doors and Kimmie was behind one of them. God told her that Kimmie had done her job and was ready to be with him. I cannot remember all of the dream details exactly but somehow that dream gave my aunt a sense of peace that her baby was alright and that she would see her again someday. It was a moving speech that surprised everyone. There was a mother, in the worst pain imaginable, and she was moving toward the healing process right in front of her friends and family.
My uncle spoke next, but did not share her sense of peace. He vocalized his anger. He was angry with God for taking his baby. He was not ready to let her go and he could not see a time where he would ever accept her death. It was pretty obvious that he was my blood relative, because I understood every word out of his mouth.
Both speeches were heartfelt and honest and every person at the funeral felt for the grieving couple without passing judgment. All any of us could do was listen and embrace our loved ones who were suffering.
Kimmie’s passing devastated every person that I knew. Even acquaintances braced themselves as the news was relayed. A precious baby had left the earth too soon and that reality hurt everyone in its path.
As a coping mechanism, my sisters and I developed an obsession with Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Every one of us did a report on the subject in high school and then again in college. We needed facts; Facts about the disorder that would help us understand the reasoning behind our cousin’s death. And even though the information recovered was limited, the act of researching assisted us through our grieving process.
I cannot say that I ever truly got over the passing of my baby cousin. I still think about her today. I wonder about the interests she may have had and the Haider sense of humor she would certainly have inherited. I think about her looks and how they would have resembled her beautiful mother and sisters. The “what if’s” are endless.
Though Kimmie’s life was short, she sure produced quite an impact on those of us who knew and loved her.
“Kimmie, we miss you very much. You are still in our thoughts today and will never be forgotten.”
No comments:
Post a Comment