Private Memorial Service

Summary

The narrative recounts the aftermath of Rick's death, detailing a private memorial service, the author's regret over not attending, and their subsequent interactions with Rick's widow, Gale, as they navigate grief and reflect on Rick's complex character.

Abstract

A private memorial service for Rick, who died unexpectedly, was attended by a limited number of people due to COVID-19 restrictions, with others participating virtually. The author, unable to attend in person, apologizes to Gale, Rick's widow, and learns that many who reserved seats did not show up. To offer support, the author invites Gale for a series of meals, during which they view photo collages of Rick and read memorial pamphlets containing heartfelt tributes. The author experiences a mix of emotions, from shame over past negative feelings towards Rick to empathy for his condition, as Rick had suffered brain damage from a violent attack in his youth. Despite the complexity of emotions, the author commits to supporting Gale through her mourning.

Opinions

The author initially felt some negative emotions towards Rick but later felt ashamed for these feelings.
Rick's behavior, which could be rude at times, is understood in the context of his past trauma and brain damage.
The author recognizes the deep and unwavering compassion Gale had for Rick, which contrasts with their own mixed emotions.
The author expresses a commitment to support Gale, despite the discomfort caused by their own conflicted feelings about Rick.
There is a subtle critique of those who reserved seats for the memorial but failed to attend, highlighting a lack of consideration for others' feelings during a sensitive time.

The day afterward, the widow and I reminisce

Yesterday, my friend Gale held a memorial service for her husband, Rick, whom she’d found dead in bed ten days ago.

On account of Corona, only one hundred people were permitted to attend; the rest were to be relegated to the “Zoom Room.”

When I phoned the church Monday to reserve a spot, I was informed that they were at capacity; I declined the proffered virtual alternative.

This afternoon, I called Gale to apologize for my absence, to which she responded with regrets in my behalf: As it turned out, many of those who’d reserved a seat failed to show up and the B-Listers were thus ushered into the main event.

After we finished expressing our mutual disappointment, I segued to the primary purpose for my call, which was to invite Gale to supper tonight, lunch tomorrow, supper tomorrow, etc., etc., … any and all of the above.

First up was supper tonight. I served an ad hoc “stewp” with a plate of (over)toasted Indian naan bread.

After we’d eaten, Gale showed me photo collages of her and Rick. They spanned the dozen years of their marriage, from honeymoon in Florida to family reunions to Caribbean vacations.

Next, Gale presented a memorial pamphlet, copies of which had been distributed to the audience.

Included were seven touching tributes to Rick contributed by those who’d treasured his friendship for myriad reasons, all eloquently expressed.

My eyes misted as I read; I was blindsided by my surge of emotion and felt ashamed of my harsh feelings toward Rick.

My self-castigation was mitigated by memories of Rick’s rudeness, in particular toward Gale, to whom he’d afterward apologize profusely … (Encore, encore …)

My remorse was reactivated when I reminded myself of the reason for Rick’s short-temper and erratic behavior; he’d suffered severe brain damage at age 17, when he’d been beaten into a 9-month coma by a six-pack of thugs.

And so, I am left with a sense of unease, regardless of which I will do my best to support Gale in her mourning the man for whom, unlike me, she felt unremitting compassion.