My Big Fat Greek Funeral: Part II

Pack Your Bags, We Don't Want To Miss Our Funeral

Pappou Yianni had to stop at the nearest Greek Embassy before returning home. The funeral home in Chicago would process all the paperwork between the Greek Embassy and the airline. She placed her pencil in her mouth and began dialing. Virginia called Athanasios Funeral Home to arrange her father's journey to Greece. Her cell phone was on speakerphone; she wanted to free her hands as she shuffled sheets before her and tallied all the expenses for her father's wake. She had the gift of being able to multitask on the fly. After a few rings on her cell phone, she dropped the pencil from her lips and shouted, "Hello…"

"Athanasios Funeral Home, how may I help you?"

"Oh, hello. My name is Virginia Bardizis. My father passed away.."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," the lady responded, "how may we assist you?"

"My father…he died in St Louis, and we want to bury him back home in Greece, on the island of Zakynthos, in his childhood village of…"

"I'm so sorry, but we no longer provide that service." The lady quickly interrupted my wife from continuing with her story.

"What? I remember that you used to ship people who had departed back home to Greece. I've attended my Uncle Themio. He died two years ago. You guys helped my Thea Vasso …you were the funeral home that did everything…My Thea said you guys took care of everything, and he was buried in Greece." My wife was in shock. She froze in the middle of her pile of papers, staring into space. Her face quickly changed with a cynical grin, and she asked," What happened? Everyone in the Greek community went to you guys."

There was silence for a moment. The lady broke the silence by answering, "There was an incident at the airport that resulted in an exchange of words between us and the consulate. Ever since we stopped doing business with the Greek Embassy. We no longer facilitate overseas burial services."

"You argued with the Greek consulate about a funeral." My wife was quick with her wit. Virginia is a great dentist, but I often wondered if she may have missed her calling as a lawyer. "Did you argue with the Greek consulate over a funeral?" My wife patiently waited for a reply but instead heard the phone hang up. With a click, our faces became blank. Then it dawned on us both.

I just stared at my wife and sighed, "We're screwed. Who else is there to help us process the paperwork so we can fulfill your father's final wish? We have already scheduled the funeral for next week. We can't have a funeral without having your father there."

"I'm not letting my father down. I'm calling Thopp's Funeral Home." Virginia was determined to find a way. Sometimes, she could become stubborn as a bulldog in her determination to get her way. "They probably have another funeral home in Chicago that can do this. There has to be more than one funeral home that can help us. And if there isn't one, I will go there and fill out those forms myself."

Virginia wasted no time and frantically dialed Mr. Silverman. "Mr. Silverman, I know I told you that I wanted Athanasios Funeral Home to handle funeral arrangements for my father while in Chicago. They no longer do business with the Greek Embassy."

Mr. Silverman replied, "That is odd. You don't get into an argument with the Greek Embassy. It's not smart for business. I think I know where this is going. Let me guess; you need help finding a funeral home in Chicago to help with processing the paperwork with the Greek Embassy and getting your father flown back to Greece."

"Yes, Mr. Silverman. Thank you. Thank you again. I never expected this from Athanasios Funeral Home," Virginia replied gratefully.

"Mrs. Bardizis, I will call a few funeral homes in Chicago and take care of it. Don't worry, I will handle it. If I have any difficulties, I will let you know."

While Virginia was talking to Mr. Silverman, I allowed my mind to conjure the absurd scene the lady on the phone was reluctant to share. I imagined two men standing in an airline hangar with a casket between them. One man was examining papers, checking off one sheet and signing another. Then, the man turns the stack of paper to the other man and points to a paragraph on the sheet. He nods his head from side to side in disgust and slams the documents on the casket. The other man starts screaming, picks up the papers, and holds a pen before the emissary. The emissary waves his hand, yelling, "No, It's unacceptable." The funeral attendant yells back, "Sign the damn paper. Everything is fine. Don't bust my balls with this petty little nonsense." Before you know it, the funeral attendant throws a long punch across the casket. The two grab each other and wrestle over the coffin. They momentarily jump on the coffin, causing it to become unsteady on the display cart. The casket crashes, popping the lid open and causing the dead body to roll out on the tarmac. The two men, oblivious to the dead man beside them, continue wrestling.

Virginia spent many hours at the dining room table after her father died. Her notes were spread across the dining room table. Mr. Silverman had one of his assistants help Virginia call the airlines and arrange transportation. The funeral assistant had given her a confirmation code, and Virginia would pay the airline with a credit card. Virginia had talked to Petro several times before finalizing her father's itinerary.

The plan was laid out for her father's funeral. The wake for family and friends will be held on Tuesday evening from two in the afternoon until nine in St. Louis. The next day, Mr. Silverman will have one of the funeral attendants drive her father to McGillian's Funeral home in Chicago. The funeral director at the Irish funeral home will process the paperwork with the Greek Embassy. Strangely, Pappou Yianni would fly out of Chicago on a British Airways Cargo jet on Friday and land in Athens at 3:30 p.m. on Monday. For whatever reason, there was a two-day layover in London. Once her father arrived in Athens, Petro arranged for the funeral director based in Athens to receive her father at the airport and transport her father by hearse to the port where the ferry boat was waiting. My mother-in-law, Janice, and I would accompany the hearse to the ferry boat. The drive to the port was four hours, barely enough time to catch the last ferry across to the island of Zakynthos. Petro will be waiting at the port to receive her father from the other funeral director. Once Pappou Yianni disembarks from the ferry, Petro will receive Pappou Yianni and begin adorning his casket with white lilies and red roses the following morning. Her father loved red roses; he always brought his wife a dozen red roses on her birthday and their anniversary.

The next day, we would follow the hearse from the port and drive up to his childhood village. The funeral was scheduled at noon.

Virginia and I were given all the details, while Janice and my mother-in-law, Tina, were still grieving and were oblivious to the funeral details. It was up to me to handle the arrangements while we were in Greece.

My wife arranged our airline tickets and itinerary with Fantasy Tours, where Georgia, the travel agent, has booked all of my father-in-law's trips to Greece for the past 30 years. He always raved about how helpful Georgia and Fantasy Tours were. Georgia was very flexible, and my father-in-law loved that she could change his departure date immediately. When it came time to book our flights for the funeral, we naturally called Georgia. Georgia was able to book our flight at a discounted rate. Airlines have a special rate for family members who must travel at short notice because of a severe illness or death in the immediate family. Georgia reminded us to fax her a copy of my father-in-law's death certificate and flight itinerary so she can secure the discounted rate. My sister-in-law, Janice, and I would only stay for two weeks, but my mother-in-law would stay longer, for two months. She would wait dutifully to sponsor her husband's forty-day memorial at the church. After the memorial, she would ask the priest to say a prayer at the gravesite.

Virginia only repeated what Georgia had said several times over the telephone, "Make sure everyone's passport is valid; the airlines will not let you board. They will not make any exceptions on this." Virginia turned to Janice and said, "Speaking of passports, did you check them? Make sure they're not expired, Georgia was very clear — -," Before Virginia could complete her sentence, Janice got up from the dining room chair and started screaming at her sister, "Stop treating me like a child. Don't tell me what I can or cannot do. I am an adult. I can handle my affairs. Let me worry about my passport and stick your nose out of my business."

"The wake is next week, Janice. All I'm saying is to check your passport. You are all flying out this weekend, and the funeral is next week on Tuesday." Virginia starts to raise her voice when she gets flustered and aggravated. She was under a lot of stress coordinating her father's funeral overseas. She had too many things on her plate: her dental office, trying to get her young children over the trauma of seeing their grandfather dying before them, and coping with her guilt of not being there for her father. She kept saying, "Why did I leave thirty minutes earlier to go to work? I should have left later; I could have done CPR. Dad could have pulled through."

As her husband, I learned this was more of a nervous reaction to the stress rather than anger directed at her sister. Unfortunately, her sister Janice took it as a personal attack and screamed back with double the fervor and intensity. "Stop treating me as an irresponsible child. Can you have the decency to treat me with some respect? Is that so much to ask? I can handle my affairs without you telling me what to do." She stopped and started trembling. She quickly left the dining room, ran to the foyer, opened the closet, took out her purse, and hastily wore her heavy coat. She stormed outside onto the backyard deck and sat on a lawn chair with a layer of snow. Her hands trembled as she placed her cigarette between her lips. Fighting back her tears, she trembled with her lighter as she lit her cigarette against the winter breeze. She crossed her legs and started tapping her left boot over her right leg. This was her way of coping with stress. She needed some solitude.

Janice felt that Virginia was the golden child, her father's favorite. She resented being denied the same attention as her sister. Was Janice jealous over Virginia's attention? Janice would deny it. Deep down, Janice harbored resentment at her father, always praising her older sister and not saying anything positive about her life. But Virginia was the epitome of a successful woman. She was happily married with two adorable children and was able to balance a successful dental practice into her life.

I grabbed my coat and stepped outside. I was the peacemaker between the two sisters. I understood both of them. Right now, Janice had many unresolved issues with her father. Her father had envisioned Janice becoming a lawyer. Her father thought she had a gift. Ever since she was little, Janice had a precocious wit about her. She was very eloquent and pervasive with her replies. Her father was frequently amazed at what Georgia would say next. Her father would often turn around, smirking at his wife, Tina, and say, "How do you reply to that." But Georgia wasn't the person who was willing to invest time toward a career. She was a person who was impatient with life. 'Live life now' was her motto.

Janice constantly harp on me, "Matt, money isn't everything. The small things in life make you happy; you can't always be working. You have to take it easy, slow, and enjoy every moment. Come sit with me, have a coffee, and relax." It was more a message for her sister than for myself. But deep down, she was one hundred percent correct. We could all slow down and spend more time for ourselves, relaxing, enjoying life, and reconnecting with family and friends.

Janice took a drag from her cigarette and blew it away from her lips. The snow dusted her curly brown hair. The cigarette smoke drifted by her as if it surrendered itself to the whims of the winter wind. Janice was trying to cope with her father's death. She desperately wanted her father's praise and approval, but somehow, it always eluded her. She let her mind focus on a pleasant moment in her past. This was her way of therapy, to calm down, gain her composure, and let the stress melt away from deep within. Usually, I would be out there with her to keep her company, but not today. I told her, "Janice, It's freezing cold; I am going inside. Don't stay too long outside." I doubt if she heard me; the cold wind was howling fiercely. She had a blank stare as if she was reminiscing about her childhood. The cold made her drag on her cigarette with more vigor. Janice wanted this to be over. It was hard for her to bear. She wanted her father back.

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A word of caution: It depicts what happened to Pappou Yianni. Not for the faint of heart.