Francesca wrote this about yesterday:

This is from Francesca's blog Flightless Parrot:

Tailspin

Yesterday I rode down to Iowa for Carol's funeral.
David F. and John S. picked me up at 4:35 in the dark morning.
We drove for six hours due south, passing at least twenty cars in the ditches along the road. We got to the church (Saint Mary of the Visitation) in downtown Ottumwa seven minutes into the funeral Mass.

Then we drove out to the cemetery.
Seated graveside, Frank, on his father Tim's lap, asked in his clear little boy's voice, "When I die, will I be with Michael and Sarah?"

Those who didn't know that Michael and Sarah are recently deceased goldfish may not have seen the humor in this question.

We returned to the church for a basement lunch of vegetable soup, ham sandwiches on Wonder Bread rolls, bowls of ketchup, yellow mustard and Miracle Whip, potato chips, chocolate cake or bars for dessert, and ice water or coffee with Cremora. It felt Lutheran to me, but I guess this is simply universal small Midwestern town culture.

About two o'clock, we turned around and drove homeward in a three-car caravan with Kate, Tim and kids, stopping at the Kum and Go for gas on the way out of town. I considered buying a T-shirt with their slogan, "Kum and Go, We Aim to Please," but can't imagine wearing it.

Several hours later, we all stopped at Cabela's, the giant hunting and camping outfitters in Owatonna (Hi, Matt!). I was not in the mood for severed heads of dead things, but the kids, still dressed in their nice funeral clothes, enjoyed walking around and looking at the impressive taxidermy animals and the live fish tank.

I was in the mood to eat dead animals, however. We had all went next door to Famous Dave's bar-b-que where I, a non-driver, had a very excellent martini and a pork sandwich.

I had been riding with Kate.
I hadn't talked to her since I had gone down to visit her mother with her a couple weeks ago. We had been talking but being quiet a lot, too. I felt she was in the suspended state of post-death calm.

Leaving the parking lot, we drove down a long twisting driveway to get back on the freeway. The surface was totally packed snow. The car slipped a tiny bit. Kate drove on and soon we were in a tailspin, slipping and sliding all over the empty white road. We were screaming and laughing--it was fun.

Kate said, "I just felt like doing that."
I hadn't realized she'd done it on purpose.
I felt then the depth of her loss.
Grief can make you want to drive off a cliff.
"Yeah," I said, "life really asks us to bear unbearable things."

It was painful to stay awake the last hour, after no sleep and a martini.

We all stopped at Kate and Tim's about 10 p.m.
Kate went and got the black bound sketchbook I had started as a journal of Baby Maureen's life when she was born in May. I had handed it to Tim at Baby's baptism in August because I wanted him to get baptism party guests to sign it, and I hadn't ever retreived it.

Standing in Kate and TIm's dining room, I opened the book to the last page that was written on. It was a message from Carol. I read it out loud, and then David and John and I drove home.
Here is what Carol wrote to her granddaughter:

Aug 30, 2004

Dear Maureen,

I am so glad I could be here for your Baptism--even though I am here for treatment of cancer too.

Always take good care of your body and especially your SOUL.

The best part is having family together. Family is very important! Don't forget that.

Hugs and kisses to you.
Love,
Grandma Carol.