By the weekend most of the family was home and most of John’s nieces and nephews had come to the house to visit. Kathy and Sal’s kids (Elise, Nick, and Michelle) arrived on Friday. Eyes wide open, almost unable to blink, their heads were shaking side to side. It was easy to see that they were crushed and confused.
Just four days earlier Nick announced that he and his wife Molly were having a baby. The first of “the kids” to have a little one and no one was more excited than Uncle John. A proud uncle, he called and sent text messages to everyone the moment he heard. “Wow Wow! That is awesome. Great for all of you. Maybe it will be a boy!” It was such exciting news. And a few months prior, he was in North Carolina for work and stopped to spend the night with Elise and her husband, Matt. Elise had taken up cycling a few years earlier, and proud of her newfound sport, John intentionally brought his bike so that he could go for a ride with them. Elise was amazed that a man of John’s stature could move the way he did. She talked about it often and cherished that time with him. The Spring Market always brought John south to Highpoint, which meant more visits and bike rides were to come. And Michelle, who was due to marry her fiancé, Huntley, in September, spent Christmas 2018 planning the bar for the reception with her Uncle John. Tequila was on the menu and they were prepared to party!
Earlier on Friday morning, when Sonya from Burkholder was at the house, I asked her if Kathie and her family could visit the funeral home later in the day to say a private goodbye. Sonya told me that it would be impossible to view John. My breath stopped and a pang of anxiety swept over me. I was confused. I was the one who found John, the image forever etched in my mind. I knew that every part of his body was intact. As she continued, telling me that the impact of his actions shattered the bones in his face, I was reliving the scene to try and make sense of it. She went on to say that It would be impossible to prepare him for viewing. We would be unable to say the kind of goodbye I felt was necessary, a goodbye that would give the kids and our family some bit of closure.
The only option, Sonya said, was that she could leave his hand exposed. There was a list of regrets mounting in my head and this news reminded me of yet another. When I ran out of the house the day I found him, I never went back downstairs. I knew he was gone and I was in such disbelief that I couldn’t bear to go back in. Even when they came to take him away. At the last minute our friend, Jen, said, “Do you want to say goodbye? You can.” By the time I figured out that I would regret not doing so, it was too late. The hearse was driving away.
Now our only choice was to hold his hand. A strong hand. One that used to put caps back on bottles and jars so tight that only someone with super strength could have removed them. One that could fix anything and always helped others. One that most certainly gave me the middle finger once or twice. And one… the one… that always reached over to my side of the car to hold my hand.
John had a strong sense of family, and it was important to me that we made them a part of everything we planned, and the decisions we made. Kathie, Sal and the kids went to the funeral home later that day. I know it wasn’t the visit they wanted, any more than I did. Kathie wrote to me the next morning, “I wish I had been able to see that face just one more time, but I did hold his hand and talked to him. I have to confess; I did yell at him a bit too. Thank you for letting me have that.”
Check out @mixedbymaddie on Thursday for a sweet deal aimed at creating kindness and supporting our local @namilehighvalley organization.
If you are depressed or anxious and are having thoughts of suicide, please reach out to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255.
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