Morning arrived. It was terrible. It was the beginning of the most difficult day of our lives. Conner later said that Monday, December 29, was the worst day of his life and that Thursday, January 1, was the hardest. I agree.
Conner dressed in what we call his “church jeans”, the nice dark wash, stain-free kind, and a button up plaid collared shirt. We combed his hair down as best we could. My sister and her family had already left so that they had time to take Reagan to a sitter. I had asked Merlyn to be an honorary Pallbearer, and had chosen one of Mike’s plaid shirts for him to wear. I had asked all of the Pallbearers to wear jeans, a flannel or plaid shirt, and a belt; that was Mike’s typical ensemble. I told Merlyn that he looked handsome in Mike’s shirt and that he could keep it. He told me he felt very honored and tough to wear Mike’s shirt.
I chose a black sweater and a new pair of grey dress pants that my mom had given me as a Christmas present. I wore flat black dress shoes that I had purchased the week before. My hair was unkempt, so I brushed it free of tangles and pulled it into a low ponytail. The only jewelry I wore was Mike’s Marine Corps ring around my neck. My dad had said he wanted to be the one to drive us.
Everything was taking place at Conner’s and my church, South Van Buren General Baptist Church. A brunch was being served at 10:00 a.m. At 11:00 a.m., family was going to go upstairs for our time with Mike, then visitation would be open to the public starting at noon. The funeral would follow at 2:00 p.m.
When we arrived to the church, I was so sick to my stomach with nerves. No part of me wanted to enter the sacred building; no part of me wanted to participate in saying goodbye; no part of me was really “awake” or feeling. I was numb. I avoided eye contact with as many people as possible, only looking at my son and my close family members. I could not stand to make eye contact. I could not stand the sad and pitiful looks bestowed upon me. It was not that I could not stand the looks because of anger; I could not stand that those looks were for me, that this was my reality now and it was awful, and terrible, and scary, and all other negative connotations that some words could not even touch.
I sat at a table facing away from the door so that I could avoid eye contact even further. Conner sat to my right and my parents, my sister, and close family surrounded us. Someone asked if I wanted food, but I declined as usual. Once a few more people arrived, I told someone to go ahead and ask a church member or Brother Johnny to bless the food so that others could eat. I only drank a small glass of orange juice.
I sat nervously awaiting the time to arrive to go upstairs. Tristan soon joined us and sat next to Conner. Both of our boys looked so handsome. I still cannot believe how “grown up” they are. I hate that their dad doesn’t get to be here with them anymore. It kills a part of me all over again every single day. Finally the time arrived when Erik came downstairs and told me if I was ready, I could go up to be with Mike anytime. I asked him if he could please get him ready one more time so I could hold his hand like at the funeral home. He said yes and went back upstairs.
I waited until it had been long enough and I asked the boys if they wanted to join me. They both declined. I needed help walking up the steps, so my sister held onto me and guided me up. As I ascended the top step, my breathing became erratic again and I broke. There were pictures of him everywhere, beautiful, heartbreaking pictures. Erik stood at the double entry doors of which the glass had been covered with white paper.
“Now, when I open these, you will be able to see him, ok? He is ready, but you need to know you will see him as soon as you walk in. Are you ready?” I don’t know how Erik keeps so composed, but he does a phenomenal job.
I nodded my head and in a weak and weary whisper replied only, “yes.”
The doors opened and I almost collapsed. The beautiful flowers were surrounding his casket and our picture of him and the boys when Conner was only two, adorned the top of the handmade casket. I sobbed all the way to the casket. I held one of our wedding pictures in my hand and his coat was still wrapped tightly around my arm.
When I reached him, I reached out for his hand. They were folded one on top of the other, and nestled behind them were the two pictures I had chosen of our boys. I wanted him to have a picture of each of his sons with him. I shakily slid our wedding photo under the boys’ pictures. I held his hand and rested my head on his chest. I remember telling him how much I love him and how sorry I still was that this happened to him. I just said those things over and over to him and sobbed with every breath. I held on to his hand tightly and then kissed it.
“I love you so much and I promise that I will do my best.” Those were my words to him. I was helped to the front pew. A moment later and Mike’s casket was closed. This was the last time that I saw him. It breaks my heart all over again just to write it. I wanted to have him out of that casket, alive and well, one last time. I wanted to lay down beside him and have his arm wrapped around me like it used to be. I wanted to hear and feel him breathing. I wanted to feel his warmth and the callouses on his hands. I wanted our fingers to intertwine and I wanted to kiss his soft lips. I wanted to hear him say “I love you, babe,” one more time. I wanted to tell him “I’m sorry,” and him hear it. I wanted so much for it to be just a few days before and I wanted him to never go to work that day. I wanted to protect our boys from this tragedy. I wanted to rewind and take it all back. Somehow. I know it was out of my control and that I could not do or have any of those things I so longed for, but it did not make that longing any less. I just wanted the love of my life back. I wanted him so much to be alive and right next to me. I wanted to hear his laugh and to see the sparkle in his eyes when he was feeling ornery and happy. I wanted to hear him flirt with me one more time, to feel his hands around my waste.
A part of me died right then and there in that church I had spent many Sundays. When that lid closed I felt like I could no longer breathe, just the same that Mike couldn’t. The finality that the closed lid brought was so overwhelming, but it would just be confirmed even deeper at the grave later that afternoon.
I’m unsure of how much time passed before I sent someone to see if the boys were ready to join me. When they entered and joined me on the front pew, I broke down again. I told them both how much I loved them. I kept asking if they were doing ok. Tristan would just silently nod his head. Conner would usually follow suit, but would sometimes cry. As more time passed in a blur, I told someone to get the rest of the family to join us. I asked Erik if he could get a few chairs to sit at the front by the casket, for I knew that I was not strong enough to stand during the procession of people I knew was to come. Three chairs were placed at the front. One was intended for me and both boys, but neither of them wanted to sit at the front, so my sister, my mom, Chris, and Becky took turns sitting beside me.
It seemed like a matter of minutes had passed when Erik came to the front again and said, “I know it’s a little early, but is it ok to go ahead and let people in? There are a lot of people out there waiting to pay their respects, many are good friends.”
I took a deep breath and said yes. I made sure again that the boys were ok and that they both had someone right next to them. My mom sat next to Conner, Conner sat next to Tristan, and then Ronda sat next to him. Following down the first pew was Grandma Mary, PR, Gayle, and on rotation was Chris and Becky. I was helped to the first chair, where I sat with Mike’s coat still tightly wound around my arm. As my eyes reached the back doors, Erik opened them and it was like a flood gate had been opened.
There was already a crowd gathered in the foyer, and as the doors opened wide, they all looked nervous. I’m sure they were, for they were not prepared to lose Mike either, and were not prepared to see me that way. One by one, for more than two hours, friends, family, coworkers, current students, former students and even some strangers to me paid their respects. My ex-husband and his family even came. At one point I raised my head to see the high school boys’ basketball team, all in a line, all dressed the same, with the coach and assistant coach leading the line. That moved my heart so much. They did that as a team for Tristan. Most of them have been my student at one point, and each of them bent to hug me before they turned to hug Tristan.
I remember when Merlyn’s dad, Leo, came through the line. Leo is such a kind man, of whom I have grown very fond in just the few times I have seen him over the years. Merlyn’s parents, Leo and Opal, are great people; they are good Christians and have raised an amazing son to be my sister’s husband. Leo is aging and has trouble walking, so Merlyn and the use of a cane helped him to the front. Leo was crying when he reached me. I cried right back when I hugged him. He spoke of how sorry he was and I thanked him. I patted Merlyn on the chest as he stood crying beside his father, one arm under Leo’s to help support him, and I said to Leo, “You have such an amazing son right here, Leo. I hope you know that. I sure do love having him as a brother.”
My sister told me later that attending the visitation and funeral was Leo’s idea. He was determined to be there for us. When Opal came through, she was so broken and sad for us that she could not speak; she just bent to hug me with tears streaming down her face.
The line literally never stopped, or even slowed. People poured in constantly and the line even extended outside. The side rooms of our church had to be opened for people to stand or sit. The walls were lined with people who could not find a seat after they made their way through the line. I noticed some people who were standing in the back and had not even made it through the line. At the end of the two hours, I was beyond exhausted. I had not used the restroom since arriving, so I asked Becky to help me to the bathroom. I kept my eyes down to once again avoid eye contact with anyone. I did the same on my way back up the aisle.
I sat for just a little while longer in the chair at the front when I asked Erik if he could go ahead and ask Brother Johnny if we could start the funeral a few minutes early. It was almost 2:00 and I was exhausted. I needed things to move on so that our boys could go home and rest.
Brother Johnny obliged, so the chairs were removed, and I was helped to the front pew seat. This time I sat between Conner and Tristan. My parents and my sister sat behind us. I never could see their faces but I know that all three of them were crying the entire time. During the entire funeral, their hands were on my shoulders. I will never be able to write words good enough to thank my family for being there for me and the boys through all of this. I felt the love in their hands and the sadness. It killed them to see me suffering so. They felt helpless in comforting me, as I have felt helpless in comforting our boys. How do you ever heal a heart so broken and shattered by such a tragic loss? You pray. You listen. You hold on tight, and then you let go when necessary.
Brother Johnny arrived to the front and began the service. A few words were spoken and then “Go Rest High on that Mountain” by Vince Gill and Patty Loveless played. I cried so hard. I heard sniffling and crying all through the church. I held on to our boys so tightly.
Johnny talked of Mike so kindly, even though he never really had the pleasure to “know” him. He knew of him and had talked with him a few times, but they did not have a relationship beyond being acquaintances. Johnny said that he had heard some great stories of Mike the last few days, some of which he could not share inside a church. I heard laughter. That warmed my heart and made me smile. A few more words were spoken and then “Praise You in this Storm” by Casting Crowns played. More tears. At one point, I’m not sure during which song, but Tristan reached out to hold my hand. I was already holding Conner’s and my hand had been resting the entire time on Tristan’s right leg, but we were not holding hands. I did not know it at the time, but Ronda had told him to hold my hand. It brought me such love when he reached out and took my hand. My soul smiled through the pain at that very second.
Johnny read some from The Book of Ecclesiastes, and then told the crowd that I had asked him to keep it short and simple. So, we were led in prayer and then the last song played. I had chosen a new song, one that many people had never heard until that day, but one that since that day they hear all the time and know it was “Mike’s Song”. It fits him perfectly. “Drinking Class,” by Lee Brice was chosen for the final song. So many people told me they were scared that it was going to cuss inside a church when they heard the line, “We belong to the drinking class...Monday through Friday man, we bust our backs…” I knew it did not cuss or I would have never chosen it. The lyrics reminded me so much of Mike and his work ethic. It begins with “Get up when the rooster crows…” and goes on to talk about a man’s work ethic and how a special class of people work harder than others, but enjoy their downtime. Mike loved the song and every time it came on, he turned it loud and listened with pride. He smiled every time he listened. He related to the lyrics well; the only thing that it did not match with my husband, was that Mike never stopped. The lyrics tell of the downtime enjoyed by those in this special class of men; Mike’s mind turned with work and project ideas all the time, regardless if he was supposed to be on downtime or not.
When the song finished, Erik arrived at the front and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, we will now carry Mike out to the foyer and his family will immediately follow. After that, you are welcome to follow along, but please let us get him out first.”
Johnny and Erik removed the flowers that were closest to the casket and turned the device on which the casket rested so that the wheels would move smoothly down the aisle. We followed close behind and when we made it to the foyer, the Pallbearers began carrying him to the hearse. I remember hugging them each and saying to them, “Thank you for carrying my husband.”
My truck was parked right behind the hearse. I helped Conner into the back seat, then my dad helped me into the front passenger seat. I told someone to make sure the Tristan and Ronda were parked right behind us so that they were one of the first ones in the procession. We waited a long time it seemed for everyone to get to their vehicles and for the casket flowers to make their way into the back of the hearse to ride with Mike to the graveyard. During this time a few more people who had not been able to make it inside due to lack of room, paid their respects to me.
A couple of my current students, and Tristan’s teammates, came to my window and told me that I looked beautiful as always. It was amazing to see the number of people who flocked to the church that day. Many of them followed us to the cemetery as well. After the two boys walked away from my door, Conner began crying. I asked if he wanted to ride up front between my dad and me. He said yes, so I opened the doors and helped him into the cab of the truck. I held on tightly and pulled him close to me.
Soon the hearse began pulling away slowly and we followed suit. I was so sick to my stomach and actually feel a wave of that same nervous, dreadfully sick feeling wash over me as I write it. Thinking back to that day is so terrible. I miss him so much it is hard to breathe.
We rode in almost silence to the cemetery, but the radio was on low volume. We kept looking in the mirrors to see the line of traffic behind us; someone told us later that they guessed it stretched almost 3 miles. The lights seems to stretch on forever. Since the funeral procession traveled so slowly, it seemed that we would never reach Pleasant Site Cemetery. As the moments ticked by, I held on to Conner as tightly as I could and wiped his tears.
The radio was on low volume and all of a sudden I heard a familiar tune. "Drinking Class" was playing, so immediately I turned it up. Conner and I held each other and cried through the lyrics. God sent us that song...Mike sent us that song. It literally came on at just the right moment, the right second in time, for it ended when Dad shifted the truck to park.
We pulled into the cemetery and I took a deep breath before getting out of the truck. And so began our dreaded walk up the hill toward the blue tent awaiting us. It was so cold that day. The wind was blowing wildly and temperatures had to be in the low 30s. It was ridiculously cold. The weather suited how I felt. I was actually relieved it was not a beautiful, sunny day. I had been holding Mike’s coat still, and since it was so cold, I put it on. Slowly, people still pulled into the cemetery lot and made the climb with us.
I was seated between the boys again. Conner was on my left this time and Tristan was on my right. My parents and sister were still behind me. We had arranged for Mike to receive full Marine honors and Erik came to me and said that the Marines had gotten lost, but that they were indeed on their way. We would just take things slowly and hope they arrived in time for the flag folding. If not, then Erik and Johnny Gipson, both former Army men, would fold for us. Erik told me at one point that Mike might not have liked having two Army guys folding his flag, but that he and Johnny sure would get a kick out of it. I actually think Mike would have just grinned and shook his head with that twinkle in his eye.
It took a few minutes for everyone to make it around the tent and Erik even had to ask that people move a little bit more behind us so that when it was time for the honor guard to fire the rifles, the boys and I would be able to fully view them. I had only ever been to one other military honor funeral and it was that of my dad’s Uncle Bill. It is such an honor to witness.
Once the crowd gathered and was positioned properly, Erik gave Johnny the nod to begin. I don’t remember much about what Johnny said. I had heard his service at the church and knew he was continuing with his kind words of my husband, but it was almost as if I was deaf. I only held on to the boys’ hands and cried. I remember also shaking uncontrollably, not from the cold. Before I knew it, the honor guard was readying their rifles, and fortunately, the two Marines arrived just in the nick of time. They stood beside the honor guard and presented Arms.
The gun shots rang through the cold winter wind and my shoulders jumped with each shot. I cried harder with every crisp jolt. I remember at one point also seeing cows from the neighboring farm come toward the fence. It was like they were coming to pay their respects to my husband as well. We all thought it very fitting.
Once the gunshots settled, the two Marines walked forward to begin folding the flag that covered Mike’s casket. They struggled with folding it. It took a few tries and I could tell they were both very nervous. Afterward, people would say something about how they could not believe how many times the Marines messed up, but I told them all that I did not begrudge them at all. I wanted people to realize that those Marines were having a difficult time for many reasons: they had just received a call to drive hours to a funeral of a brother; they had no idea where they were going and got lost along the way; it was freezing cold and they wore white gloves that I’m sure hindered their accuracy; and they had to fold this flag in front of a man’s family who was falling apart.
As one of the Marines handed me the folded flag, he bent to me and had one hand on top of the flag and one hand on bottom. My hands rested exactly opposite of his. He spoke so kindly and quietly, expressing his apologies for my loss and thanking me for my husband’s service. I spoke with broken words, “thank you so much for coming to honor my husband.”
The Marine stepped back and he and his partner both presented Arms to me. I cried so hard as I clutched the folded flag tightly to my chest. Johnny finished the service and it was time for people to once again hug me and the rest of the family. People filed one by one passed the boys and me. When most people were gone, I noticed that Tristan stood and walked down the hill with his cousin. He could not be there any longer. I understood, but part of me wished he would have stayed so that I could hold him like I held Conner. I know that I’m not Tristan’s mom, but I love him as much as I love Conner and I wanted to comfort him if I could. He needed to escape though, so I did not call his name.
After Tristan walked away, I told Conner that I wanted to stay until they had put Daddy all the way in the ground and asked if he wanted to stay. He did not, so I hugged him and kissed him bye. My mom and Norm drove Conner to our house. Once I was sure Conner was out of sight, it was time for me to say goodbye one final time. There were still several people standing around and I felt much like a circus freak. I hated that they were watching, but then again I was happy that they were seeing a true example of real love.
I looked at Erik. “Is it ok for me to say goodbye now?” I asked meekly.
He shook his head and answered, “Yes.”My sister helped me to the coffin and I just hugged the coffin, crying and shaking. I spoke the important words to him again, the ones I had spoken at the funeral home and earlier that morning in the church.
“I love you so much. I’m so sorry this happened to you, babe. I wish it hadn’t happened. I’m so sorry. I miss you so much already. I’m trying my best. I promise that I will do the very best I can to make you proud and to raise our boys well. I love you forever. Now, forever, and always times infinity. I promise. I love you, babe.”
I gently kissed the casket and was helped back to my seat. I was crying so hard. Once my eyes were open, and I could see Erik, he made eye contact and asked, “Are you ready?”
I nodded as they removed the straps and began lowering him into the ground. I cried so hard. I hurt so badly. The pain was unreal. It was final. He was gone. They were lowering him into the ground and I could never see my husband again. I was so broken. I guess I must have cried aloud at one point because Erik asked, “Do you want us to keep going?”
I replied with a nod. I sat there until he was completely lowered and there was nothing to do but fill the hole with earth.
“Well, I guess that’s it, huh? He’s really gone,” I said to my sister.
“Are you ready to go home?” she asked in return.
I nodded yes and we walked slowly back to my truck. Amy helped me into my seat and she and Merlyn had to go into town to get Reagan from the sitter before returning to my house.
Dad and I drove in silence. Things are a blur from that point until friends arrived a couple of hours later to tell stories of my husband. I had asked them earlier, or had someone else ask, I can’t remember. I wanted to laugh. I needed to laugh. I needed to hear and share stories of Mike. So, later that night we filled our living room with chairs and friends. So many stories were shared and I laughed out loud at them all. I cried in between many of them and a few times I remember not being able to breathe and my sister came over and sat on my lap and just held me and let me wail. Everyone went silent in those moments and I apologized each time. Of course, being the amazing friends that they are, they all told me I did not need to apologize and that they loved me.
Every time I would break down, my little boy would come up behind my recliner and tell me that it was going to be ok. A few times it was so bad that my sister and my friends would wipe my face with a cold, wet washcloth. I literally would hyperventilate and felt that I might pass out a few times. I’m so grateful that those moments did not make up the whole night, but that much of the night was spent in laughter. My husband was such a fun man. He lived life on the edge much of his life and it was a wonder that he made it 44 years, and that many of his friends made it riding alongside him. Most of the stories told that night revolved around danger, beer, and some kind of cool vehicle. There were so many stories that I will cherish forever.
As the night wore on, I became so exhausted and asked Amy to get me a couple of xanax. I knew that I would not sleep without them. Conner asked if his friend Jackson could stay the night and I was relieved that his parents said yes. Conner had been having fun running around outside with Jackson, Spencer, and Zach, all family friends' children, much of the night. He was very happy to have Jackson stay overnight. It was a good distraction.
Once the xanax kicked in, and I had that dizzy feeling, I told everyone that I needed to go to bed. I thanked them each for coming and told them how much Mike and I loved them all. I hugged them all as they filed past me to leave our house. Erica told my sister that she was going to help me to bed. She walked with me to our bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed with me. She had a very serious look on her face and said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I was confused and worried and remember asking, “What?”
“Mike visited Jack’s dad.”
“What do you mean?” I thought she meant that Mike had visited one of his friends, Jacks’ dad, Jack, Sr., who was suffering from cancer. I assumed she meant that Mike had been able to make it to their home in Eastwood. MIke had been so worried about Jack, Sr. and about Jack, Jr., as Mike had lost his dad in the same way we all knew Jack, Jr. was about to lose his. Cancer sucks. Cancer had robbed Mike’s family of Bob and it was going to rob Jack’s family of Jack, Sr. Mike would text Jack, Jr. occasionally and ask about his dad’s progress, hoping always for the best, but also knowing the inevitable. Mike hated that his friend was having to deal with the same thing he had years ago.
“I mean Mike visited Jack.”
I still didn’t understand and I know Erica could tell by the look on my face, so she reached out and held my hand and continued.
“The day Mike died, Jack called out there to tell his dad. When he told him, his dad got this real weird look on his face like he was confused. He said, ‘Yeah, I know. It was awful’.”
I frowned and shook my head, still not comprehending where Erica was going with the story.
“Jack asked who had called and told them and Norma said no one had. When Jack had called early that morning, at like 7:00 or something, they hadn’t put the phone back on the hook right, so it was busy all day long. No one could call in and there isn’t cell phone service out there. LeAnn and Norma said that there was no one who had told them. We asked everyone and no one had been out to tell them. Big Jack said he knew that it had been awful, that Mike had had a terrible accident at the concrete plant.”
Erica looked at me. “No one told him. He couldn’t have known.”
“So, what are you saying? What do you think happened?” I was still confused and in shock.
“Mike visited Big Jack on his way to Heaven. He had to have. There is no other explanation for it because nobody told them about what happened before we did. Nobody. We just figure since he was closer to them, like location wise, with Birch Tree, that he stopped one last time to check on his friend’s dad. I can’t tell you how much it means to Jack and all he can say is, ‘I can’t believe MIke was such a good friend to me, that my buddy, on his way to Heaven, stopped to check on my dad.”
I bowed my head and squeezed her hand as I began crying, but still shook my head. I wasn’t shaking it in disbelief anymore, but in sorrow that he was gone. I was happy he had paid a visit to his friend’s dad, but part of me was almost jealous. I wish I could have seen him one more time, but I am so happy because this story made me believe that Mike had passed to Heaven.
“I think he did it to tell Jack's dad that whenever he is ready, Mike will be waiting for him, that it’s ok, he’ll be there.”
The hairs rose on my arms and neck. I hugged Erica and thanked her for telling me the story. I walked back into the living room with Erica and hugged Jack. I thanked him too and he could not even speak. He was ready to break down too, so I just hugged him and told him thanks. I hugged each of their kids, Katie, Zach, and Tyler, and told them all that we loved them. The Griffins were the last to leave that night. My sister walked us back to the bedroom.
Conner, Jackson and I all slept in our king sized bed, with Conner in the middle of course. I did not rest at all that night, but was so thankful that my little boy did.
My husband was such an amazing man. It showed in the number of people who filed through the church and our home.
I am #stillhis Now, Forever, and Always times Infinity.
Love,
Veronica
