The Funeral Dress, Again

Last January, I bought a dress for my paternal grandmother's funeral. It was about $80, a price that I never pay for any item of clothing, but I was desperate for something appropriate and classy, and I had a very limited amount of time to shop. So, I bought it.  Since then it has been trotted out for three additional funerals, and now, this week marks the fifth opportunity to wear it, as I lost an uncle to his battle with Alzheimer's. I HATE that I have had the opportunity to get my money's worth out of this dress, actually, more than my money's worth.

My kids have been to 4 funerals this year, and I could not ask them to participate in the fifth. Over the last month, I have reflected on my own childhood experience confronting death and funerals. I can honestly say, I never had to attend a funeral for a loved one, that I was old enough to remember, before my senior year in high school.  I did attend perhaps two funerals as a child, but I did not know the person well enough to be traumatized by it.  In fact, I vaguely remember being slightly disrespectful with friends, and daring one another to "touch" the body.  Was I just fortunate?  Maybe I was, I don't know. However, I do know, that my kids have the idea now.  They know the unpleasant, they feel the loss, and they have had to process their grief. People wax on about death being part of life, but the point has been made, repeatedly.

Tonight, family kept inquiring after my children, wondering why they weren't present at my uncle's viewing. Bottom line, it was my decision to protect them.  They were not close to my uncle, as he pretty much dealt with Alzheimer's for most of their lives, so they did not spend much time with him.  But even if they had enjoyed a closer relationship with him, I would not have included them unless they asked to be a part of it. They are fully aware of the part that death plays in life, perhaps too aware.  I mourn not only for myself, but for my children, for their loss of naive innocence that children SHOULD get to enjoy. It just doesn't seem fair. We will forge ahead, and meet the challenges as they come, but truthfully there are times I would rather live in a city named Denial.

Back to the dress. I remember being ridiculously concerned about the price of that dress, because I only imagined I would wear it once. Now, I will never be able to look at it without thinking about this year of loss. Obviously, I know that buying the dress had nothing to do with the outcome of the year, but it is a symbol. A symbol of the sacrifices our family has been forced to make. A symbol of petty concerns, like the cost of a dress. A symbol that my heart will forever be affected by saying "goodbye" so many times. A symbol that our lives are forever changed. I say that I "hate" that dress, but it isn't the dress at all, not really. It is actually quite a nice dress, but I can never wear it for any other occasion. It can never be more than the funeral dress now.