We didn’t have an old fashioned southern funeral with open casket, and visitation on the night before the service. We didn’t have everyone come to my house and neighbors bring tons of food. We didn’t do it that way here in Hayesville where I live and where Barry and I lived for some of the best years of our long married life.
We discussed our desires for the final ceremony of our lives and we both, after lots of thought, decided on cremation with a memorial service to be held at a later date. My memories of my mother’s funeral and Barry’s mother’s funeral were just too painful, and we didn’t want to have our loved one go through the traditional ritual.
We discussed our desires for the final ceremony of our lives and we both, after lots of thought, decided on cremation with a memorial service to be held at a later date. My memories of my mother’s funeral and Barry’s mother’s funeral were just too painful, and we didn’t want to have our loved one go through the traditional ritual.
“Make it as easy on yourself as you can,” Barry told me, “but be sure you don’t ever have me in an open casket where people come and gawk at me.”
At my mother’s visitation at the funeral home, I walked in weighed down with sorrow and there was the open casket with a body that did not look like my mother at all. Her hair was beautifully done, just as she always wore it because her hairdresser, who loved my sweet mother, asked to fix it.
I went over and touched Mother’s hand and drew back in horror. Her skin was cold and unreal. That did not feel like my mother. That did not look like my mother and I told myself that is not my mother. She is not here.
I could not talk to the visitors who came to offer condolence to the family. I could not stop crying. The visitation, a barbaric ritual, is torture for the family and undignified for the person who lies there unable to have a say in the whole thing.
Barry and I decided we would never put each other through this. Although that is the only thing I knew for sure that he wanted, I am so glad we chose cremation and I could wait until I recovered from my own exhaustion from round the clock care giving.
At my mother’s visitation at the funeral home, I walked in weighed down with sorrow and there was the open casket with a body that did not look like my mother at all. Her hair was beautifully done, just as she always wore it because her hairdresser, who loved my sweet mother, asked to fix it.
I went over and touched Mother’s hand and drew back in horror. Her skin was cold and unreal. That did not feel like my mother. That did not look like my mother and I told myself that is not my mother. She is not here.
I could not talk to the visitors who came to offer condolence to the family. I could not stop crying. The visitation, a barbaric ritual, is torture for the family and undignified for the person who lies there unable to have a say in the whole thing.
Barry and I decided we would never put each other through this. Although that is the only thing I knew for sure that he wanted, I am so glad we chose cremation and I could wait until I recovered from my own exhaustion from round the clock care giving.
In that time, I could think about what kind of memorial Barry would want and had the time to plan, with wonderful singers and friends, two services in his honor, both filled with some of his favorite music, a constant theme throughout his life. These services were celebrations of the life he lived and the kind of man he was.Those who attended actually enjoyed the services and exclaimed over how perfect they were. 
No person can be justly honored in one hour. We can’t explain all the generous things he did for me and others, all the ways he impacted lives of those who knew him, the achievements of his career. Barry was not defined by his work. That was only a small part of who he was.
The service held in Georgia was attended by my family and his family and close friends from his past. Jeff eulogized Barry, and his talk was so beautiful I’ll never forget his words. This friend met Barry after we moved to North Carolina. Barry, unknowingly, impacted Jeff's life in a wonderful way.
Roger, Don and Michelle, who spoke at the service in Hayesville, also met Barry after we moved to North Carolina. Richard, long-time friend of 29 years, spoke, and still the words were about the warmth, the humor, the loving manner and gentle nature of this man.
No one is perfect and Barry certainly wasn’t. But wouldn’t we all want to be remembered as “a man who made you feel good when he entered the room.” “He was fun to hang out with, just to be around him."
Our niece, Lori, sent me a quote. “People will forget what you say, and people will forget what you do, but people will never forget how you make them feel.”
No person can be justly honored in one hour. We can’t explain all the generous things he did for me and others, all the ways he impacted lives of those who knew him, the achievements of his career. Barry was not defined by his work. That was only a small part of who he was.
The service held in Georgia was attended by my family and his family and close friends from his past. Jeff eulogized Barry, and his talk was so beautiful I’ll never forget his words. This friend met Barry after we moved to North Carolina. Barry, unknowingly, impacted Jeff's life in a wonderful way.
Roger, Don and Michelle, who spoke at the service in Hayesville, also met Barry after we moved to North Carolina. Richard, long-time friend of 29 years, spoke, and still the words were about the warmth, the humor, the loving manner and gentle nature of this man.
No one is perfect and Barry certainly wasn’t. But wouldn’t we all want to be remembered as “a man who made you feel good when he entered the room.” “He was fun to hang out with, just to be around him."
Our niece, Lori, sent me a quote. “People will forget what you say, and people will forget what you do, but people will never forget how you make them feel.”
