Connie's Funeral

[Guest guest]

Sorry this is so long.

Connie's Funeral

I am getting dressed, and I look myself in the eyes in the mirror, and think

" Today I am going to bury my friend Connie? "

I know I am going to be writing about this, so I think I'll try to to look

for details to bring back with me and give. I heal by writing. I can't keep

stuff bottled up because it makes me sick. I'll have to do this, even if

nobody reads it.

I'm a very strong person, but I ask my husband come with me. I don't want to

be alone. I don't want to drive there alone, I don't want to sit there

alone, and I don't want to remember this alone.

Being dressed in black makes it seem hotter than it really is. I think that

I won't write that it was a beautiful day because I am going to bury our

friend Connie, and there was nothing beautiful about that.

I asked Dave how I should introduce myself. I didn't think friend was right,

because I had only met her in person once. (He strongly disagreed.)

We find the mortuary pretty easily. Gotta love MapQuest. There are a lot of

cars here, and lots of people standing outside. Lots (50?) of motorcycles in

the lot where we park. We're 45 minutes early, and we have to park across

the street.

There's a picture of the building here: http://www.meeksmortuary.com . In

your mind, add about 100 people standing on the porch, the steps and the

sidewalk. Some smoking. Lots of leathers. Nobody smiling. Nobody.

We walk up about 10 steps and go into the building. In the foyer, there's a

line waiting to sign the guest book. The name on the placard over the book

reads simply - " CONNIE. " I've never seen that before. Usually it reads with

the full name. My knees go a little weak. Dear God,, this is really

happening. How can this be happening?

My eyes fill with tears. I sign the book about halfway down this page.

Definitely not the first page. We go in.

The room looks like a small church. 2 sets of 12 pews, with red carpeted

aisles up the middle and the sides. Connie's coffin is open, at the front of

the center aisle. Connie's coffin. What the heck is that about ?

Behind the coffin is an elevated platform, (stage doesn't seem right) with a

lectern. 4 chairs (2 and 2) behind it. Flowers, flowers are everywhere. Both

sides and above.

We walk up the center aisle to see her. It doesn't look like Connie. Later

in the service it dawns on me that it doesn't look like her because she's

not smiling. Connie always smiles. Smiled. Dammit. Dammit dammit.-, I hate

the past tense! Smiles.

There are lots of pictures in the coffin with her. God, she was so pretty.

That one must be her wedding photo - great picture. I wish we had a copy of

that for the web page that Jen is setting up. " The " photo of her on her

Harley is there, that girl must be , those are probably her sisters, I

recognize some of these kids from my visit to her Mom's house.

As I turn around, her family is sitting in the front right pew. I'm not sure

really who is who. I should have paid more attention to the details when I

was there.

The first two people on the bench look like her parents. When I met her Mom

she was riding a golf cart on the farm. Now this woman is all dressed up,

black dress, but I think it's her. Strong farm look to her. Next to her is

Connie's Dad (I guess). A big guy, late 50ish. I think he's wearing

suspenders. He reminds me of a picture of a successful Texas oil rancher or

something. In reality he's a successful race horse breeder / owner.

" I'm sorry. Are you Connie's parents? " Her Mom is sad, her eyes are so sad,

beyond tears sad. She nods yes. I introduce myself, reminding her that we

met briefly at her farm once. She remembers, and says that the flowers from

the group are beautiful. I tell her how sorry we are, how I wish there was

more to say or do.

I feel a rush energy from her to me. She is so glad, beyond glad, that we

are here with Connie. The words tumble out out of her. How important the

group was to Connie. (We are the group. It's us.We were all important to

Connie.) I tell her that we loved her so much. I tell her that I can't begin

to explain what she meant to me, to all of us. We're both crying. Her Dad is

stoic.

Must be a sister next to the Mom on the other side. Looks like Connie, but

with darker hair. She moves into our conversation, asking me if I have the

Stills Disease that Connie had - is that what she heard? I nod.

I ask where Joe is. He's outside smoking a cigarette. There are a couple of

people behind me now, so I give Connie's Mom our pages., our words, our

thoughts. I tell her it's not nearly enough, but there are letters for her,

for Connie, for Joe, and for in there.

I have never put anything in a coffin. But I need to do this. I don't want

to ask, because I don't know if it's a proper thing to ask. But I need to do

this.. I ask if I can put a copy, these pieces of us, in with her. Her Mom

looks blank. Her Dad looks me in the eye and nods solemnly. I feel peace

from him. He nods yes. I thank him.

I turn around, and walk back over to our Connie. I fold the pages in half,

and tuck it, fold up, unobtrusively between her right hand and the padded

satin lining of the coffin. I can't remember if it was pink, or cream, or

white.

Dave and I sit three rows from the back, on the left if you're facing the

crowd. On the outside near the stained glass window.

I didn't remember to look at the cards on the flowers to see which ones were

from people I knew. They were up high, I couldn't see them unless I walked

up behind the podium. I should have asked her mom which ones were from us.

Joe comes in, and I see Connie's sister talk to him. I hear " Still's person

is here " . They find me in the crowd, and I walk over to join them. I'm not

sure if he remembers me.

Joe is a huge man, big and strong and bald. He grabs me in a huge hug and

just sobs. His words are so desperate: " Thank you for being here! God, I

loved her so much, what am I going to do? We had so much damned fun

together. " We stand there crying. Together.

When we pull apart I see that his shoulders are covered in mascara,

foundation and lipstick. Not mine. At least, not most of it.

The room begins to fill right at 1:00. There arre so many people here! If I

count seats and multilply, I can write a pretty decent estimate. Probably

145 seated, plus another 30 or so that don't have seats. Lots of bikers

wearing their leathers. They each had a black (leather?) string tied around

their right upper arm. Must be a biker thing.

Dave is holding my hand.

The speakers all said so much, so many beautiful things, that I couldn't

possibly do them justice here. I'll just tell you the parts that stick with

me.

The service starts with Pastor Whitey Fights speaking. He is a man of about

65-70, thin but not skinny, dark hair mostly gray now, thinning. He leads

off with a prayer, and preaches a bit. He's been a part of her life for a

while, as he has mentioned that he would always hurry up to see her every

time he heard she was in the hospital.

He says that Connie had been to church in March, and had filled out two

cards, on two different visits. The first card was to signify her first

visit, and her second had the little box checked that indicated that she

wanted more information about turning her life over to Jesus.

He had ministered to her about this, telling her she was a " baby Christian. "

She needed to read the Bible to help her grow. He seems to genuinely believe

that she has the Faith, and has accepted God as her Lord and Savior. He is

certain that she is in heaven. If we want to go to heaven to be with her,

then we need to accept God too.

Then Joe talks. He's really good., powerful and honest. He says lots of

things. Connie had prepared a list for him of things to talk about. It said

for him not to ramble on like he did when he was at their wedding, all drunk

on tequila. It told him not to be all drunk on tequila.

We laugh.

She wanted a biker funeral, to match their biker wedding.

He talks about her first bike, and her first Harley. His pronunciation is

" motorsickle. "

How she was a spoiled rich brat when he met her. How he took Miss Priss out

on their first date, which ended in him doing a prearranged strip tease for

another friend, much to Connie's surprise. They never went another day

without seeing other.

Her parents spoiled her, and he spoiled her. He liked to torment her a

little by holding out, to make her pout, because he thought it was cute, but

he knew she would always get what she wanted from him.

I don't think he meant for this to come out, but most of his talk was just a

stream of consciousness. I thought it was sweet though - he liked it when

she wore her skimpy shorts and low cut shirts to the rallys and such. He

says that he thought she was beautiful when she dressed up sexy like that

Hell, he thought she looked pretty damned good. (his words.)

He says that everybody there was so much a part of her, she loved her

family, her ABATE group, the Blue Knights group, her Stills group, just

everybody.

I think of everybody in the group. Connie is part of our group. A part of

our group is being buried today.

I think of the group often all day long. I wish we could all be together. I

wish Jen would have driven up. She could have stayed with me. I wish I had

seen her message in time to invite her.

Joe mentions that Connie wanted to move to a 5 acre plot on her mother's

farm. He says that if he had done that, the house plans would need to

include a crows nest, just so that she could keep an eye on what her sisters

were doing at all times.

Joe says that there is more he is supposed to talk about, per her letter,,

but he just can't go on any more. Then he introduces a friend of theirs to

talk.

A biker friend stands up. He talks about how Connie touched everybody she

met. He mentions that she was always smiling. He said that once you met her,

you were hooked. She affected everybody that she met in that way, and people

always came back for more. He also has RA, and he knows that she is happy

now. Smiling, waiting for all of us. Pain free, still giving to us, just in

a different way.

I think that I don't know if the void she filled in us is greater than the

one she left though. I don't see how it can be either way, really. I guessed

that the laws of physics must not apply in matters of the heart.

He had worked with Connie in the shop, and laughs while remembering how she

began. Ordering wrong parts, because she didn't know any better. She didn't

have a clue what she was doing. But that didn't slow her down - she just

kept going, knowing that she'd get the hang of it. How she never asked for

help. Never admitted any shortcomings.

How she was in a wheelchair when he first met her. An electric wheelchair.

How she kept bumping into things all over the place, knocking things down.

Making a mess and a racket. He saw that she had the control on her chair set

at its highest speed. She wouldn't consider his suggestion that she lower it

a little. Too much to do. Phones to answer, customers to greet. She couldn'

t bear to miss anything at the shop either.

Next is a guy who ministers for the Christian Motorcycle Assoc. chapter in

Muncie. He is really good lookng, like Tom Cruise with better, lighter hair.

He says that Joe had asked him to speak. He gives a nice talk. He starts

with the fact that he met Joe and Connie about 3 years ago, and once he met

them, he kept running into them everywhere. The last time he saw Connie was

in a Village Pantry (Hoosier-speak for convenience store) about a month

prior, and she hugged him like she did everybody every time. He thought she

looked really good. He asked her how she was, and she told him that she felt

better now than she could remember ever feeling. He asked her how her Faith

was developing. She told him she was growing and feeling very good about

that. He thought that was why she looked so good, because her soul was

already at peace.

He talks about God, reads from the Bible, and leads us in a prayer. Quite

honestly, I am hoping he is going to wind it up soon He's been going for a

while now. But he says that he has more to say, but he's apparently lost his

notes. He fumbles with his papers for a while, then finally says that he

really can't add to the words that Pastor Fights had given us, but he wanted

us to know that we were going to burn in hell of we didn't accept Christ as

our Lord and Savior. Another prayer, and a big Amen.

Then the family plays two songs per Connie's instructions had included, one

dedicated to her Abate group, and one to her parents. I don't recognize the

first song, but the second is " Because You Loved Me. "

A woman puts her hand on my shoulder to comfort me because I am crying.

Dave is still holding my hand.

After that, the directors usher people up past the casket, past her family.

There is a tape playing, some sort of a gathering, that has Connie's voice

on it. It's apparently an informal gathering, full of music and laughter.

The man in front of me in the line thanks her parents for creating such a

beautiful daughter. My husband tells Joe how much comfort Connie and the

group had given to me, how important she was, how important what she had

done was.

We walk outside, and looked at all the motorcycles before we get in the car.

A little red Sportster. That's what Connie used to ride.

When the procession starts, the bikes leave first. There's a brief flurry of

confusion, I don't think they were supposed to go yet. There were 2 escorts

with them though, so it was apparently an adminstative error.

The hearse leaves, then the limo. More police escorts. On the way, we catch

up to the bikes. I speculate that the police have radios and probably slowed

them down so we could catch up.

Huge procession, very impressive. All the bikes at the front give it so much

character.

In Indiana, all traffic , both directions, stops for a funeral procession. I

didn't know that, but I like it.

At the cemetary, Joe walks behind the coffin, bearing some of the weight. I

get the impression that he wasn't a scheduled pall bearer. But he was

carrying her one last time.

We're waiting for all the cars behind us to unload. Joe comes to stand near

us. He spots a friend, and hugs him, with the words " You were at our

wedding, now you're at her funeral. You rode her in, now you rode her out. "

We all gather around Connie's coffin, and Connie's sister (the other one)

announces that she wants to read a poem that had been given to the family by

the Stills Group. It is the poem that contributed. Her sister chokes

while telling everybody who it was from. She says the poem was Connie, what

Connie would wanted everyone to do.

.. Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glint on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle Autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there; I did not die.

She sobs the whole way through it When she's done, lots of people are

crying.

Then, the family passes out orange and black helium balloons. Her sister

(the fiest one) says that they , can't find Harley balloons. Her parents get

special mylar balloons, and I see s mylar balloon that says " beloved Connie "

on it.

They say a quick prayer, then on the count of 3 we all let go.

Oh Connie, I'll miss you so.