My Big Fat Greek Funeral: Part IV

The Wake

The room felt eerie. We were the first to arrive. And front and center lay my father-in-law. And before the casket stood my wife, her cousin, Yianni, my mother-in-law, and my sister-in-law. Our children sat by themselves in the first row of pews. They had no desire to approach the casket. They couldn't confront to see their grandfather. He was full of laughter and jest; they were afraid to approach him. Death was a difficult concept for them. Something they feared and could not comprehend.

My mother-in-law, Tina, tried to look upon her husband bravely. But she didn't want to accept the fact that he was gone. She tried to be strong, but her face gave way to the fear, pain, and agony of living alone. She hated how reality just dropped upon her like a heavy load. Her dreams of retiring happily with her husband shattered at that moment. All the years she was waiting for her dream of retirement, filled with long lingering mornings spending breakfast and planning trips abroad with her husband and soulmate, were forever shattered. Her dreams vanished. Now, Life has become cloudy and uncertain. How would she survive without him? She grabbed onto Yianni and asked him to help her to the pew. She couldn't bear the reality of the pain of being alone from here on end. She didn't want to be alone. She wanted her husband back. She feebled a plea to God, "Give my husband back to me." But she knew the plea was too late. Her husband was gone, gone forever. She sat next to her two grandchildren. They snuggled under each of her arms, hoping to console themselves by her embrace. Her embrace felt cold and empty. She was lost in her tears, staring blankly at the mahogany casket.

The two daughters looked on, standing side by side, before their father. As two juxtaposing silhouettes before Death. Janice stood tall in high heels and a matted black cocktail dress studded with rhinestones. Virginia was much shorter and wore a black suit with four gold buttons dashing down her jacket. Both stood tall side by side, but there was a large gap between them. Each daughter stood entranced before their father and his memory.

Janice still had anger inside her. She was angry that he left without genuinely understanding her. Her father never understood her. He never saw the world like she did. He was so set in his ways, the old ways. He couldn't open his mind to see the other side of the story. No, he had to be stubborn. He was always judgemental. He had to be rigid. He refused to understand. He refused to listen. He never cared. Janice silently muttered inaudibly, "I have ideas; I have a plan for my Life, and my dreams are important. Why wouldn't you sit down and listen to me….Why wouldn't you sit down and listen…." Janice stood alone as her tears engulfed her. Trembling and sobbing before her father. "Why wouldn't you spend time with me…." She cried over and over again. "I just wanted you to see things my way." The anger and rage began to take hold within her. She hated how he scolded her and ridiculed her. Today was no different. She wasn't afraid to think it, "You fucking bastard. You made my life hell. You fucking bastard."

Virginia was mad at herself for not being there when he lay dying. She felt things would have been different if she had been there for him. She muttered to herself, "If I had gotten the call sooner. If I drove a little faster. I could have been there to give CPR." She loved her father more than any other person alive. She did everything for him because her father did everything for her. When Janice received the phone call from her frantic son screaming, "Pappou slipped and fell, and he's not waking up! Mom, he is not waking up!" She ran out of her office and drove her car as fast as she could. She ran red lights. She was burying the accelerator through the chassis. She drove across the front lawn because the paramedics had blocked her driveway. As she sped closer, she saw her father being rushed on a stretcher by six firefighters in heavy black coats. Virginia stepped on the gas and buried it as far as possible. She tore across her front lawn, digging trenches in the turf. She wanted desperately to rush to her father's side. But as soon as she threw her car into park; she flew out of the driver's seat. "Papa!" she screamed. It was too late. The ambulance door slammed shut to her cries. All she could see through the ambulance's rear window was the paramedic's head bouncing up and down in an eerie and constant beat.

Virginia started to replay the words she said to herself as she saw the ambulance speed down the driveway and down the street, "Μπαμπά, μην με αφήνεις ακόμα, μη φεύγεις ακόμα, μείνε μαζί μας." "Papa, don't leave me, don't go just yet, stay with me." That's when the shock took hold of her, and she dropped to her knees sobbing. Her little Niko came running up to her, carrying the blanket he had just brought for his Pappou, screaming, "Mama, Mama, are you OK? I'll help you, Mama; come inside; I'll help you." Virginia hugged her son hard and long in the cold winter wind. She closed her eyes, praying silently for God to make everything alright.

The two daughters stood together motionless in front of their father's casket. They were reliving their moments of pain and sorrow. Yianni came between the two sisters and rescued them from their trance with a heartfelt hug. The sisters hugged each other, hoping to give each other additional strength. "He was such a good man. He was a second father to me. I will never forget how he would scream at me whenever he saw me ride Virginia's bike in the middle of the street. He would run down the street to catch me, and I would pedal so hard and just to piss him off. When I brought back the bicycle, after an hour or two, he always hugged me. He was never angry with me. I must have made him worry like shit. I think he lost his hair because of me." The girls forgot themselves and let out a little smile.

"No, Yianni," Janice smiled as she wiped her eyes with a tissue, "if he did, it was because of me. I was the problem child, not you." He turned and hugged Janice and then Virginia once more. "Theo Yianni is doing OK now; He is in a better place up there. God forgive him and keep him safe. He was one of the good guys, right? I bet Theo Yianni is shaking up the place, stirring things up in Heaven. He always loved being the boss."

The girls looked up at their cousin, tearful but smiling. Yianni wasn't a cousin but their brother in spirit. The three grew up together, inseparable. He escorted the two girls to the front pew to sit down. Yianni tried his best to keep everyone's spirits a little higher. Yianni began by saying to Janice and Virginia, "It's hard losing someone, but Life goes on. We must carry on and move forward for the sake of the children. Pappou only wanted what was best for his grandchildren, Niko and Tina. At least they are old enough to remember him. They are lucky to have lived and loved such a great man." And with that, Yianni gave his two cousins a big hug.

As the night progressed, our friends and family slowly trickled into the parlor to offer sincere condolences. The line before the casket slowly and steadily grew. Within an hour, all the pews were filled.

The priest came in, flowing across the room wearing his ornate ecclesiastical garment, The Holy Book, in the clutches of his right arm. We all dutifully sat down as he spoke a few words.

Father Joseph cleared his throat and began to speak to all in attendance, "Yianni was a devout husband, father, and grandfather. He was a hard-working man who worked two jobs and a third on the weekend to provide for his family. Yianni was devoted to his wife Tina for almost fifty years. He was a loving father to two wonderful daughters, Janice and Virginia. And his greatest joy was his two grandchildren. He was always there for them, eager and playful. He would constantly run after his two grandchildren, Nicholas and Tina. He never stopped, always moving, always on the go. Everyone called him 'Pedouli'; it means little kid. He ran around full of energy like a little kid. He would dance at the Church festival in his village just this past summer to the wee hours of the night. He would dance with cousins and nieces, doing everything from Kalamatiano to the Tango. The festival would go on and on into the next morning, and Yianni would still be dancing with all the young people from the surrounding villages. The village was taken aback by how he danced all through the night. It is a fitting nickname for a man with such energy and vitality. His dance partners would get tired from dancing with him." Father Joseph chuckled and said," He wore them out with all his dancing moves. I remember how well he danced at the last New Year's Eve party."

"But alas, Yianni is in a better place. A place of joy and a place of peace."

And with that, Father Joseph placed the Holy Bible on the podium and began the Trisiagion or the Service of the Holy Trinity. As Father Joseph read the final prayer, he concluded the service with, "Amen…. I have one more announcement. As many of you know, Yianni's final wish was to be buried back home in the village where he grew up. So the funeral will be in Zakynthos. There will be no service at our church."

Everyone came from the community to pay their last respects. As the night progressed, our friends and family came and offered their sincere condolences. We had decided a few days ago that Janice and I would accompany my mother-in-law overseas for the funeral in Greece.

"Oh, by the way, don't forget about the passport," Virginia reminded everyone.

"Again, with the passport. What the hell is wrong with you? I can handle my passport myself. Stop treating me like I am a clueless child."

Virginia became curt with her sister, "Chill. I was talking to Mom, not you." She turned to her mother and asked, "Mom, did you bring Dad's passport? The Greek Embassy requires Dad's passport for their paperwork and at the customs office at Athens airport."

My Mother-in-law sat in the front pew and began searching through her handbag. We all started to sweat. She searched each compartment, pulling out wads of crumpled papers and receipts, tissues, and two pairs of gloves. We were dreading that she had misplaced his passport.

"Mama, Don't tell me you lost Dad's passport." Janice dared to say it aloud.

"For Pete's sake, have a little patience," my mother-in-law quibbled, "here it is. My goodness, all of you are getting cranky. Take it and give it to the funeral director". She handed the passport to me.

I took it and proceeded to the funeral director's office. The office was locked. I walked down the main hall of the funeral parlor and finally found the janitor. I asked him, "Where is the funeral director."

"Gone. Everyone is gone. I am here all night to clean and vacuum. If you need anything, come by after eight in the morning."

I have to work tomorrow morning. We were already short-staffed in the office. I had promised to get much of my work done before I left for my father-in-law's funeral. The children were tired and were clinging to each side of their mother. I wondered where I could leave the passport.

It hit me. I will tuck the passport in my father-in-law’s suit pocket. It would be safe there. I would snap a picture of my father-in-law’s passport and text it to the funeral director in the morning. I’d also text him, letting him know where I had placed it. If there were any issues, he could call me. I walked over to the casket and opened the top leaf. I reached in and slipped the passport into the inside breast pocket. I was beginning to feel like my children at this point, tired and cranky. It was time for us to get into our car and drive home. I wanted this day to end quickly.

Read My Big Fat Greek Funeral: Prelude and Parts I, II, and III. Click on my medium page for these stories.