REFLECTIONS, RECOLLECTIONS, & DETAILS OF THE MEMORIAL SERVICE OCTOBER 2005 |
.Memorial Service October 2003 We would gather to remember my son, we would gather to remember the friend, the co-worker and colleague. Friends of ours and his friends, would come together in the most sad of times to remember Mike. To some he would always be "Justin", and to other he was always "Mike". They came from the community, they came from "schools", they came from shared work environments with Mike, they came from his "lifetime" here in Pasadena and the surrounding communities. Friends from the "security, law-enforcement, academic, and computer communities, came to remember the kid who grew into a man, but always with all that "computer" knowledge rattling around in that sponge of a brain he had! I had thought to wait some weeks until I felt strong enough to live through this memorial. I wanted time to prepare. But it was clear that we needed this, sooner - not later. There would be no funeral, no place for some to come and visit Mike, to "pay their respects". There would be no graveside service. But there would be a Memorial gathering , and the sooner the better. My son would then be with me, until a more permanent memorial location would be secured. It seemed - without question - natural that I should plan it, coordinate it, and I would be the key person to speak and make it "comfortable" for others, if it can be. It was really still a group effort - , of those of us who watched Justin grow from boyhood to man - who helped me organize it. As I am writing this, I cannot remember what day it was held, - maybe a Friday? I will not go look it up right now. I cannot remember what time of the day it happened, but I know, it was afternoon. I was so grateful for the help from his closest friends, and my friends who helped me make it happen. We had no idea how many would be able to get away on a weekday to attend. We had worked hard by phone, and in personal visits about town - to get the news out of the "happening' and the Memorial Service. There were so many places to call and visit. It was always a shock to those who were just hearing the news, to those in places where he frequented, - from the people who missed him suddenly but didn't know why he had not "come in". and we worried that we missed getting the message out to many. We did our best. Why was this tragic death not on the front page of the local paper? One of Justin's closest, long- time friends and " his love", took care of printing the handouts for us. I gathered up the personal items I thought were appropriate to take and put out at the Memorial Service. Business friends and other provided floral arrangements, coffee, and more. It seemed many were anxious to contribute in some way. As we setup up what seemed to me like a small a modest display, for such a big personality, - I think I was overwhelmed and numb at the same time. We set up long tables at the back of the big room at the Masonic Temple, where all would enter and could pass by, if they wished, before going to find a seat. There was clothing (his famous black leather jackets he lived in for 5 or more years!) baby shoes, photo albums, trinkets he treasured, things I treasured of his, and more. The ladies of the local Starbucks where Mike was a regular "part of their visiting family", volunteered and asked to supply the coffee. We arranged for a podium, as I needed something to lean on. And so we sat up the floral arrangements, and the easel with the big photo board, and some few chairs facing the big room. I didn't want many flowers but some sent big arrangements that did add to the "feeling" that this was a "mourning". event. I was amazed at the size and list of names on some! I was also moved and grateful. As we four, set up, I began to worry that the room would not hold all who might be able to attend. They assured us we could have a larger room if we needed. And so the mourners - friends- began to arrive. I remember the first group of young friends of Mikes. There was the beautiful young women friend, he had cared so much for, who I knew so much about, but had never met personally (only seen her from afar at Police Dept Functions). She was in tears and being held up by some young man. In came friends from Earthlink. (That group grew and grew as they all sat together, row upon row.) The gathering mourners then began to grow quickly. From Pasadena, the school district, the Police Department, the HAM radio community, Pasadena City College, Warner Brothers, Mt. Sierra College, Countrywide they came. My friends, my husband's, our work colleagues, from church, they came. Two beautiful women - a married friend of mine, and one the dearest and closest longtime friends of Justin were there early helping out. . These two women, the tall and the petite, flanked the big open double doors where mourners filed into the big room. Their faces were so sad as they passed out the wonderful handout that had been prepared. I saw such grief and quiet tears on their faces as more and more people came in. The quiet tears just dripped down their cheeks. I had to move away from it for some minutes, taking time to say a special hello to some friends I had not seen in a long, long time. I was touched as the crowd grew and grew, still larger and larger, filling all the seats!! Friends made in our "dwellings of apartment life, from Pasadena, they all came. As we sent out the date and details, I made personal requests of a dozen or so special people to speak at the service. I invited them to speak if they could or would. There were others who would need no invitation, but might also be too deep in grief come forward, so it was understood that those who wanted to speak would be given the opportunity. There was never any discussion or question about the event. I guess it was just understood. I would start the "service" and I would move it along and I would close it. The Pastor of the church where Mike attended, would come and speak, but I do not ask him to guide the service. It would not be "religious", it would be "spiritual" to all of us in our own ways We would not have "too much music". I thought of a lot of things that were special to Justin, but would not fill this event with them. Always in the back of my mind and heart was my son. What would he see, what would he say to me about this if he could and I based my decisions about everything, on that! The man my son called "Dad" - with affection and respect, would give his own gift to Mike and he sat quietly up in the front of the room ( hiding behind a big floral arrangement on purpose,) with his native flutes. He began to play, as soon as the first people arrived. This man, who had never before had the courage to play for friends or in public, played his flutes for nearly half an hour or more. He filled the big room and halls beyond, with the familiar and comforting sounds I had come to know and love. This day he played for Justin. And we could feel the love, and we could feel and hear the sadness in the songs of his playing. I stood behind the doors outside the room, and out of sight, listening to this impressive and moving tribute from my husband. He had taken his seat up front, where he would stay beside me to give me strength and support throughout the "time to come". There were many brave people there that day. But there were two "giants", like pillars. The pretty petite woman who had been the love of his life for so many years. She was to him what most of us wish for in life, - that friend who is total love and giving. I knew his feelings, .as he talked to me of them and her a lot in that last year! And here was his dear childhood friend, who also came from great distance to be there. The "brother" friend. Another "Mike" almost, so much alike in nature, so different physically, but both large in character! Brilliant, personable, loving, and what a friend he was to Justin! What a friend he was and is to us still!. These "pillars" were there, in a lot of pain, but being so strong for me on that day! They had been so helpful in the days that up to this day, and would be after. Our old friend came in smaller and older than I remembered. I have the photo of them still together - the young boy, the older lady in her late fifties then - in their roller skates at the apartment in Pasadena! I was so touched to see her there, she had grown so old, and could not speak but in a whisper of her saddenss. I hovered outside the big room, nodding hello to many who entered, but letting a wall keep me apart a little. Then I saw my tall friend come in. He had suffered many emotional and personal problems in recent years, but here he was, neat and tidy with many handwritten notes, ready to brave the public world and speak of my son. We talked quietly outside until he had the courage to go "in". Then our friend of many years came in tentatively and I met him outside the big room. It was as if I could feel him there, and I had been waiting. I knew this would be very difficult for this sensitive man. And hurrying in toward the end, a dear friend to both Justin and me, a mentor to one of us, a mate to the other, he came in with arms outstretched. It was a long, tearful embrace. He was so grief-stricken, as I suspected him to be. He seemed scared and almost afraid to confront the feelings. He finally let go, with apologies that he "could not stay". he made an excuse, and I assured him that his coming was all that was needed. I was not hurt or offended or upset in any way that he "just could not stay." Justin knew, I knew and the three of us were sharing a very deep and terrible pain this day. I promised to get back to him soon and couldn't thank him enough for his gift of coming by. He left quickly. I felt that I was walking into a room of many old friends, some new friends, many folks that I didn't know, but knew of me of my son, in their work with the City of Pasadena or with my husband. Mikes footsteps were covering the territory of this entire city, and had for a long time, and he had touched many lives here - those that could came today. I knew his grandmother was not coming. She was devastated at losing him just when she was starting to get to "know" him again. I could not console her, and our few phone conversations after his death were so emotional, I would leave her to her grief and not expect her at the service. He died on her wedding anniversary! Her husband of 93 was in very poor health and she would not make the trip. I could feel this deep, and heavy sadness growing as all waited quietly in their seats, row upon row of those who came to see and hear, pay respects, and offer condolences. I have never personally seen such a mass of overwhelming deep sorrow and sadness as I saw in the faces of those arriving. I had attended other funerals and memorial services, but I had not been in the position I was this day, and had never felt such loving but mournful grief surrounding all of us. And so I kept to myself, only coming out in the lobby area to say hello, or hug someone special, who needed the added reassurance and courage to go join the others. It was time, the room was full and it was time to start. I knew many of these people, they knew me, they knew "Mike", they knew "Justin", and so I wanted to start strong and with a message I needed to bring them together, I wanted to show them I was there and Mike was with me and we would all get through it, with much sadness - but with some laughs and smiles. And so I quietly slipped out of my high heels and put on my son's beautiful large, size 13DD dress shoes. I had tried them on once before (at my house, when Mike wasn't looking!)- when my boy was still alive, - and I laughed to myself as I walked about in them that day long before. I knew I could do it now, I felt that Mike would help me with this. I took my time, and I entered from the back where all the others had entered. I made my way across the back, glancing toward the tables where my son's things were placed, and I turned to go up the long center isle between the many, many rows of friends and mourners. I had to clunk along, sort of shuffling, but trying hard to pick up my feet and carry those big shoes right along with me. It was sad, and it was almost funny that I would do this - like this. Justin might have been embarrassed, but he wasn't there to chide me, and in truth, he would understand He would smirk and say "that's my mom"! And I don't remember if I introduced myself, but I think I did. I was Mike's mom, and these were Mike's shoes. This day of all days, I was walking in my son's shoes. But no one could do this, no one will, and no one can "fill those shoes"! (Past, present and future there. "could, can, or will". I knew this and suspected that many of those in attendance knew it as well!. No one could and Mike would never again fill these big wonderful shoes. I told them the story of our long, long walks home at night. After my workday, after his long day at school and day care after. I would get off the bus and walk to the school and pick up my son for the long 6 to 8 block walk home. Carrying briefcase, lunch box, and often a bag of groceries, we would make our journey. We would get tired. Sometimes we started tired there was no way to get home, but to keep going. And so I would tell my little boy, "just one more step" we would play the game, just "one more step" He probably knew exactly how many steps it would take. No amount of rest-stops would shorten the journey. there were a lot of steps! But he played along, "just one more step". He was 3yrs old when we started this from preschool/nursery daycare. I felt that this day, I would do the same and I would just "take one more step." And for many hours and many days, and months and years to come, I felt I might have to encourage myself to "take just one more step". I was standing in the shoes of my son there in front of all those people, at least with a podium to lean on. I had intended to take off the shoes and slip back into my high heels, but I never did so. I could not let go of those shoes and they gave me courage! I started off by telling the story of my son's unusual and remarkable beginning. The difficult and disasterous pregnancy. I told them of the accidents and injuries that my unborn son and I would endure and survive in that pregnancy, and I shared the details of the last minute, near death, then miracle birth, of this little baby boy. Hospital and doctor didn't think I was going to make it, they would take the baby (7 1/2mos) and try to save him. We both lived. From the moment that boys' feet hit the ground he never stopped. He was amazing. It was my joy in life to try and steer, try and keep up, try and guide his footsteps, and to always encourage, and inspire with love. The story of this little baby boy, of his life with a soon-to-be single Mom - was one - some had heard before and others had NO idea about. I shared the trials, joys, and triumphs, of a most marvelous life in Pasadena as Justin's Mom. I knew most of the names (not all the faces) of those who would speak about Mike. And so, as it was appropriate, that I would stop talking each time and ask that his Pastor, his professor, his Watch Commander from the Police Department, his boss, an LAPD officer and motor rider, his partner at the PD, his boss from Earthlink, his supervisor and his boss and his department head (all from Countrywide) his colleagues from Earthlink, from Security work, his college student friends, my friends who visited the house and played with my son,. one by one I invited them up to share with us about "Mike". One by one they came up to talk about my son. I would say few words that I felt told more about his wonderful ways and his life and that would segue into another area where I could ask the next person to come up and talk to us - and share. Some had prepared written pages of thoughts and words - most did. But some, like the Assistant to our Police Chief in Pasadena, who spoke for the Department, spoke directly from her heart and her knowledge of work with Mike at the Police Department. The Vice Chancellor of his college (where he was a senior with a high grade average) where he was also an active Faculty Assistant, came up and spoke of the Mike they all knew. I continued to be more and more touched and moved as these people talked about my son. I knew how giving my son was, I knew how dedicated he was to the community of the City of Pasadena, or the community at Earthlink and Countrywide. I knew of his friends, and social trips, sports activities, etc. but still they reminded me of how fun, smart, sensitive, thoughtful, my son was, as a man and a friend. They told stories that I hadn't remembered in years! It seemed with each person who stood to speak, more thought to add their memories and it was very, very moving to all of us. And I was surprised when they told how often Mike talked of "his Mom." As I look back, I wish I had recorded this event, this moving tribute and memorial. They all put heartfelt thoughts and memories out for us that day! I remember standing there looking out, to see faces I recognized and many that I did not. I knew so many names and I knew about their lives of these people I had never met! I knew of them through my son, his sharing with me, his stories!!. There were special moments of such strong support that I "nearly enhaled" from Mike's longtime friend and partner, during all the 100's of hours of volunteer work with the Pasadena Police Department. His courage, his pain, his words to me, and his mother's words to me were so special and appreciated that day. I remember how I felt like I was dying a little, as I saw the dreadful disbelief of sorrow and pain on some of the faces of my adult friends. There was the woman friend of ours, who could not have children, she and her husband, good friends who had watched me raise my boy. They had paid for this big old wonderful "hall" for this service today. The face of a dear friend, a single man who was raising a son named Mike, and he knew my pain. I wanted to grab him - and hug him - and tell him how much I appreciated his friendship. I saw the face of another friend and father, and he silently fought his tears, his face set hard in many tense lines of pain, he could not hide it or make it go away. He had helped with all the mortuary details, he had given us the precious beautiful wood urn for my son's remains, - he was thinking what he would do it anything happened to his one and only child, the apple of his eye. I saw it all staring back at me that day. And I saw the thoughts of some, wondering if some of those moments I would get weak and not stop crying and collapse there in front of them. I would not, because they came there for me and Mike, and I was there to see it through!. I don't know how long we were there, but many volunteered to talk. And then his long time friends, young men his age, coming back together after having gone on in their own directions, meeting again at Mike's memorial service. And they each in turn, grabbed hold of that podium and put down their notes, and took us through the memories. Some of them struggled so to keep from actually crying, their voices getting low and soft at times. And we shifted in our seats, hurting for them! They told stories! They told some stories they thought were maybe secret, ( as they turned to me and say, you probably didn't know this but) but I knew my son told me everything!!! They made us laugh and we also cried. We didn't want it to end, we didn't know what to do next but I had to wrap it up, and let them "go". Many lingered, many waited. They wanted to say hello, they wanted to say how sorry they were, they wanted to share their story,. they wanted to meet Mike's mom. They wanted to tell me that they had heard lots about me too! They seemed to want some direction of "what do we do now". Is this it? We invited them all to come by the house after. I listened, I got hugs, I cried, I meet faces to go with the names I knew. I remember many "goodbyes" it seemed the line was very long and some didn't want to leave. Could they help clean up? and they did. And the room was finally empty, friends with vans offered to drop the floral arrangements at the house I went to thank the gentlemen who was in charge of over-seeing things at the lodge. His name was Wally. He had a grown son, I had met in the course of this day. He was a man of much wisdom and spirit, it surrounded him. His body was tall, his stature proud. He was old, but he was a "presence" and with his calm and understanding demeanor, and his snow white hair, I kept thinking how he could be "God" just there - in charge, that afternoon. And so it was time to take our memories, and Justin's things, my treasures and go home. No photos were taken. I didn't think of it. I wish I had. No video tape was made, I didn't think of it. Some asked me about it later, and I wished we had done that. We had the guestbook. and I had the memories, and these stay with me today. Memories of his black jacket hanging there on the chair, the photo albums and the beautiful young Brazilian woman and friend, he liked so much, how she cried. His baby shoes, his cycle keys his other helmet. I remember the picture board up front, I remember how my cell phone went off, on "vibrate" three times while I was talking at the beginning of the "service". It was vibrating it's way across the wood shelf and it was making the whole room laugh, - while I figured out what that noise was. I remember the entrance "late" by his beautiful lady-friend, carrying strings of origami cranes made by children who never knew my son, but knew her I remember watching her sitting there in the front row, where we had saved seats for her. She had been trying to call me for directions I was talking there, and she was trying desperately to reach me my phone vibrating loudly during the Memorial Service. Somehow I think it would have made my son, laugh and cry. I didn't want it to end then, either. I felt safe there, loved, surrounded by this community of Mike's life and I didn't want to let go. It was a quiet and tearful drive home. We were joined by some remarkably brave people. Friends of ours and Mikes. Many of his work friends, told me there were going off to be together cry and be together - I think. I understood that completely. The "girls" came. How I loved them for their smiles and hugs of support. It was a comforting collection of friends who stayed with us that evening, talking, sharing, and missing Mike. Many tearful goodbyes were said that night, to those who would again go back to their own lives some distance away. They had made a long and painful journey to come together to remember their dear friend. And every one of us there, knew the long and painful journey without Mike, was just beginning. |
