Saying Good-bye (Part 2 of 2)

Flurry (Continued)
Saturday, Oct. 8, 4:00PM
The flight was fast, and the landing, very bumpy. The plane rose and fell as it plunged into the cloud layer. I didn't think my motion sickness pills would compensate and they nearly did not. I was fairly loopy by the end. Once on the ground, we bolted from the plane. No baggage claim for us. We ran out to the curbside. The BF was on the cellphone with our friends that were picking us up. Moments later, their car emerged. Running into the cold rain, we threw our bags in. A cabbie honked his horn at us. Welcome to back to New York.

We went our separate ways when I was dropped off at home. The BF had to make arrangements for flowers and buy shirts. I had to start getting the apartment together. It was going to be an epicenter of activity as the family would retire for a brief respite here, between sessions at the funeral parlor on Sunday and Monday. The BF had to wrangle food for them/us. It was nightmare of things to arrange, but it had to be done.

By early evening, most of the dust had settled, most odds and ends tied up. I was so tired from all of the running around, I crashed for a few an hour on the couch before the BF returned from yet another run.

The BFs sister called, to ask for some pictures, any pictures of Big A, we might have on the computer. The BF couldn't do it, so JJ and I volunteered. We scanned through the photo library mournfully, stopping on some, sighing. We landed on a picture of Big A and JJ, she cried, woefully. I consoled her. Later, as I posted them up for viewing and downloading, I broke and sobbed to myself.

When we hit the bed, it felt like we'd never left. Sleep was fitful as we knew we would never be ready for what lay ahead.

Grief
Sunday, Oct. 9
I'd awakened to the sound of activity in the kitchen through the closed bedroom door. Friends had already come over to help finish cleaning the apartment and allow us to get dressed. I shaved, showered and dressed, dreading the day before us.

Arriving at the funeral parlor a little before 2, the entire family went in together. We were immediately brought to tears by the flower arrangement: an American flag with the words "A___. THE BEST." It was one of Big A's famous lines, "You're the best."

Saddest and most heartbreaking was the man laid out before us, one who'd been so full of life and verve, a smile for anyone and everyone, was quiet in an unwaking sleep. Some good came from his passing. He was finally at peace, no more pain.

Blur
Sunday, Oct. 9 and Monday, Oct. 10
The two days blended together,people coming in to pay their last respects to Big A as a parade of flowers lined the inside of the room. It was no surprise to hear the words, "He was my best friend, " uttered from so many people, because it was true. As his oldest son put it, "He was the last of the tough guys." Not your atypical Brooklyn italian ruffian, but a defender of the meek, righteous with out being self-righteous. I overheard a story about him in the Korean War. He was an MP, made one because he was from Brooklyn. Men were dying on the line. More were being sent up. He turned them around and sent them back against orders, saving their lives. The pullback order came the next day. Typical Big A. I love him.

In between sessions, the family retreated to my apartment to rest, drink and essentially refuel. I enjoyed it very much, as it was a snapshot of Big A's legacy. His immeditate family, grandchildren, his and their friends, all communing in his honor. The kids were laughing and playing. Largely unaware of his death, but they paid homage to a great man nonetheless.

Good-Bye
Tuesday, Oct. 10
"Goodbye Dad," I whispered to him, touching his shoulder for the last time. At that moment, the finality of his death hit me all at once and I cried all my grief out as the BF held me.

After a funeral mass at the church, we made a long funeral procession that snaked through Brooklyn and ultimately out to Long Island, to his final resting place by his father. His father had been buried alone, Big A didn't want his father to be alone anymore.

An Army Honor Guard played "Taps" and presented Big A's oldest son with a folded American flag. We said our final good-byes and laid roses on his casket. It was hard not to look back, but I couldn't help it. It would be the last time I'd lay eyes on the vessel that held him. Too small for such a big man, too small for such a big heart. In his death, I hope I can still learn from Big A, that I could be like him, loved by so many, missed by so many.

Good-Bye Big A. I miss you. I love you.