Well, as promised, here is the second entry from our emotional week of funerals. I should actually change the title to "The Strange Smell of Formaldehyde, Nursing Homes and Funeral Flowers." I don't know why flowers smell different in a funeral home than they do in your yard or in a vase on your kitchen table. I guess that's another blog.
As strange as it may seem to blog about doing my Aunt Sue's hair, I feel like I need to purge the details since so many of my friends and family have asked how it went and what it was like. Of course I mean no disrespect at all by writing about the experience, even though, at times it was almost comical. If you knew my Aunt Sue at all, you would know that it was certainly appropriate that the whole thing was even funny at times.
I have already said that I did not hesitate to agree to the favor. My Mom mentioned it first and I believe said something to my cousin, Jimmy. When he asked, I had already given it some thought and decided I would definitely do it. I did say, however, that I knew I couldn't go in there (wherever "there" was...) alone. I just said that I knew someone would have to go with me! I had doubted it would be my husband, since he had to be available to take care of the kids for me. I knew my Mom would not be in any condition to go with me. So I just said, "As long as someone goes with me, I'll be fine."
I have more than one funny uncle. These are the "brothers" of my Mom's. There are four of them and they were blessed with a sense of humor that is second to none. One such brother, Uncle Jeff, sat with me in my Aunt Sue's hospital room towards the end of her life. We were both able to stay with her when it became too difficult for my Mom and my cousins to watch her struggle. He offered, one night, to go with me to do her hair and when the day did come for me to go...I thought he would be the perfect person to take. I needed someone who could keep things lighthearted for me and help me to keep it together. I doubted that I would break down in front of my often hilarious uncle.
Last Saturday, when the funeral director called, I made the arrangements to pick up Uncle Jeff and then head to Hartford City to do what I had promised. When we arrived at the funeral home, I don't think either of us had any idea what to expect. We just walked in, introduced ourselves and the kind director told us to follow him. He asked if I had done hair for someone who had passed before and I told him that I had not. He then asked my Uncle Jeff if he had done anything like that before and he said, "No," as well.
We followed him into a garage of this large, amazing house that I would give my right arm to live in. In the garage I spotted a gurney-type thing and I panicked. Surely he isn't going to just roll my Aunt Sue out here to the garage with that big door open and everything. What will people do as they drive by? Peer out their car windows and catch a glimpse of me styling a dead person's hair? But we kept walking to another door off of the garage and I felt a little better. Not going to happen in the garage. Thank, God!
Now...I don't know what I was thinking. But for some reason, I had it in my mind that this whole thing would go down down in a beautifully lit room, with "funeral home chic" decor and soft music playing in the background. I had visions of my Aunt lying on a satin covered table of some sort, maybe not dressed, but covered beautifully somehow. As I walked toward this door off of the garage, I imagined that beautiful room would be on the other side.
I was wrong.
As we walked in that doorway, it hit me right in the face. The strongest, strangest smell that I quickly identified as formaldehyde. There was no mistake that it was formaldehyde and it didn't exactly creep up on you. Smacked me instantly. The same way the cold air hit me in this refrigerated, very bright white, not necessarily the cleanest, old, cinder-block walled room. Boy did my eyes start wandering! And so did my Uncle Jeff's! We were looking around and taking EVERYTHING in. There were bottles of chemicals lined up on old garage-type shelves. A rolling stool in front of a counter with a faucet and cabinets that I really wanted to open up and look into. It was about 10X10, had no windows, cold and stinky. And there she was. My sweet Aunt Sue just lying there. I couldn't help but think she had to be so cold. Isn't that just about ridiculous! Duh. Of course she is "cold."
But you know...she looked really good. So peaceful. Like she was sleeping. My Uncle commented on how great she looked and I instantly felt at ease. She did look good. And now I wanted to make her look even better.
I was a little nervous at first because the funeral director and my Uncle were kind of just standing there as I started doing her hair. The funniest part was when I was trying to make her bangs lay down around her forehead and couldn't seem to get them to comb down. They just kept popping back up. At one point, I used my flat iron to pull them down and they shot back up again. Uncle Jeff made the funniest face, like what I had just done was NOT working. Plus, I was paranoid that I would get too close to her skin and burn her without knowing it since she obviously wasn't going to pull away or flinch. Finally, I used the old faucet and sink to wet the comb to make it stay down. The funeral director said, "Here...this will help." He started spraying her with a water bottle, which worked. I didn't bring a hair dryer, but he had some ultra powerful little dryer that I used. I wondered what else that thing was used for. It wasn't a typical hair dryer. Wonder what else it dried? Uncle Jeff looked as relieved as I did when our dreaded bangs started to lie down.
After that, I worked quickly and was soon finished. We all agreed that she looked great and I then focused my attention on giving him her clothes and making sure he knew she had little slippers and new underclothes.
The ride home was actually pretty funny. We both laughed at how we had such different expectations on what that room would look like. He had a more sterile, CSI type vision and I had this soap opera, dramatic vision. Boy, were we both wrong. But we survived.
Later, I was thanking God for providing what we need to get through things. I needed my Uncle Jeff that day. He was the perfect person to go with me. Had I taken a sister or even a good friend I think I would have gotten too emotional and maybe not been able to do it. But for some reason (and I think we all know the reason!) Uncle Jeff offered that day and we took care of it.
And the most important thing was that Aunt Sue looked great for her funeral. She would have wanted it that way!
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