Saturday, August 22, 2015

Kay Deming Graham Funeral - Poem: Welcome Home

Just got back from a night-time walk around the block to work off my delicious dinner from Ooka Restaurant in Willow Grove. Dave Deming took me out for dinner and thanked me for choosing this
excellent restaurant.

Image result for ooka restaurant He wanted hibachi so "Max" was our performing chef. Lemme run in the kitchen and check my sugar.

1 3 4.  Very good. My endo, Laura Fitzpatrick, said thother day, she likes seeing my name on her roster b/c I take such good c/o myself. Her son Brooks is now two, like our Max.

I just asked Dave to take my photo.
Where the hell are my Betty Grable legs?

 Woke up at the ungodly hour of 7:30 and made Dave a big breakfast.
 Bought this delicious bread from Mr Weinrich himself at the Giant Bakery.

What's your healthiest bread, I asked him. He handed me this multi-grain bread.
Don't ask about his eye patch. Or, for that matter, his driving.

Last nite I awaited Dave's arrival from Houston to the Phila a/port. He rented a car - a white Chevy - and got horribly lost.

He arrived at 2:11 am. I was asleep on my red couch, watching a film noir on YouTube.

After breakfast and coffee, we got in his white Chevy and drove to the Emmanuel Johnson Funeral Home on Chew Avenue in Germantown.

Image result for emmanuel johnson funeral home

I just sent them an email stating "The word 'commitment' has only one T.

Altho we got horribly lost, we finally found the funeral home and were not late.

 After the well-attended service, Dan and I drove to Ivy Hill Cemetery for the interment. I asked him to tell me some stories about the week he and his fam spent in Ocean City NJ. 
Beautiful homes in Germantown.

Look at this yellow beauty!

 Flashers on, "Funeral" sign vacuum-suctioned to the front window, we followed the procession to the gravesite.  Sarah rode with David.

Pallbearers carry out the coffin. Can't believe Kay is inside. They had an open casket, which, to me, is always shocking. She lay there like a huge plastic doll.

Dan said this was his first experience as a pallbearer.

What does pall mean, we wondered. "And a pall fell over the room." Yeah, but what means that?

A pallbearer is one of several participants who helps carry the casket at a funeral. A pall, which recalls the white garments given in baptism, as well as the Resurrection of Christ at Easter, is the heavy (usually white-coloured) cloth that is draped over a coffin.[1] The term "pallbearer" is used to signify someone who bears the coffin which the pall covers.

 Here's Kay's obit.
 Jeffery with his cane. Next to him is Charlie Graham, his son, who's a little younger than Dan.

We were given flowers, mainly roses, to put on the casket. We did the same thing at my brother David's funeral in Cleveland.

Then we drove back to the funeral home where we ate in an air-conditioned rotunda. 

 The sandwiches were delicious.... I injected 10 and grabbed some grapes so I wouldn't go low.
 I ate a turkey-ham sandwich and went back up for tuna-salad.
Here's Celeste who works for the funeral home. 

I begged Dan to drive me home, he said No, so I asked some people where they lived. Charlie suggested I get an Uber cab. No, I said, that will cost money.

Finally Dan relented. We drove straight to B&N where his family was hanging out. Twas great seeing the kids. Sharon works in the children's dept and knows Grace and Max quite well. I told her we just came from a funeral.

We call that a "homecoming," said Sharon, who's black.

My goodness, I told her, I wrote a poem for my sister/law called "Welcome Home."

They stood on the front porch
awaiting her arrival
still wearing her nightgown
her back was turned
as she waved goodbye to
Jeffrey, her black bearded
husband who was good to her
and then to Charlie, oh that was
hard, saying goodbye to that
fun-lovin son of hers she still
wanted to crush in her arms.
Shaking her snowy-white curly
hair, she suddenly began to
skip, aware of a new lightness,
as if her body was a floating green
hummingbird headed
toward its new home.
They waved to her from the
porch. I know them, she thought,
my god, they're all here. Have they
assembled on my account? What
have I done to please them? I'm
just a simple girl.
Daddy, she cried, running into
his arms. The smell of Rolling
Rock no longer shrouded him
like a cloud. He lifted her high
in the air. “My darling
girl. How I have missed thee.”
"Betty," he said to the woman
in the rocker. "Look, who's come
at last. Our fearless little daredevil."
Kay ran into the arms of her mom.
"So proud of you, Sweetheart," said
mom. "We watched you on TV,
O Union Negotiator and Peace Corps
Kay laughed and set herself down
on the rocker. Any music up here?
Or that great Lebanese
food Mom used to make? Baba
Relax. Sit. The silent hands
will serve you. Piano music
filled the air. Claire de Lune
better than ever. Perhaps
they were on the moon. 
Kay patted her puffy white
curls. “I think this is
what they mean by
bliss,” she allowed. 
Bliss. Ecstasy. Euphoria.
Still, she thought of black-
bearded Joffrey, as she called
him playfully, and that ever-lovin’
son of theirs, Charlie, the
newest daredevil Deming
left on earth to cause havoc
under the sun. That’s
my boy. 


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