Funeral

We got back from Salinas and points north about 5:00. (I missed the 4:40 train and got the 7:02.) Rather than recording chapter and verse, I'll just quickly run over events of the last few days: Got to Santa Barbara about noon and was picked up by Carolyn and Betty. C. dropped us on a trafficked cross street and B. and I had lunch at a cafe. We didn't get started for Salinas until about 4:00, C., B., Finn, and I in one car, Dana, Claire--and Calvin!--in another.  We stopped at the Madonna Inn for dinner (I love the place and hadn't been there for years), which was great fun.
After a four-hour drive, we got to Gilroy ("the garlic capital  of the world" and about 30 miles from Salinas) to the Best Western. Why so far away? Because Carolyn had researched it and the accommodations in Salinas were all 300 and up a night--yoicks!) We ran into Patrick (Frank's son, an otolaryngologist at Johns Hopkins) at the hotel and saw him and wife, Susan, later. The next day, we drove back to Salinas for the high mass funeral.
What can I say about that? It was well thought out and carefully planned, and included personal touches. Marybeth's ashes and picture were on a podium and the two priests who conducted had been close friends of the family for years. Their two sons each addressed the audience with Marybeth's writings (I'm not sure why the Maureen and Francine, the two daughters, didn't) The church was almost full, although Frank and Marybeth had moved from Salinas at least fifteen years ago. Certainly, the service was meant to be a tribute to Marybeth and to have her remembered. And yet...and yet...
It's been almost two months since she died. I know it's silly, but a "funeral" that long after the demise just doesn't seem to mean much. Marybeth seemed to have receded into the past, unlike those who funerals are held within a week or so of death. Call me a dopey recovering Catholic, but I favor the ritual of viewing, then ceremony, then burial. The deceased seem somehow to be "there"--or at least, hovering around close by--rather than statically contained in an urn. Anyway, it was much too long--almost two hours.
The reception after, though, was ideal. It was at the John Steinbeck House (where he had actually grown up) and was just a short stroll up the street. There was a wonderful buffet (no booze, though, interestingly) and we all, of course, mingled and talked and laughed and forgot about why we had gathered. Several hours later, we drove back to Gilroy and the hotel to change, relax, then gather at the house out of town that Francine had rented. We had a good time there, what with the wine, the leftover food, the eight kids running around, and the ten or so of us laughing with relief that we were not yet ready to be eulogized.
Back in Gilroy, our party, plus Patrick and Susan gathered at the Black Bear diner for a light dinner, then to bed. Slept soundly, unlike the night before when Betty's sleep apnea machine whined and screeched incessantly and kept me awake.
In the morning, we met again after breakfast, then said goodbye to all. As before, the four of us went in one car, Dana, Claire, and Calvin in another. Broke up the four-hour plus trip for lunch at a Chinese buffet, hung out for a bit, then Carolyn and Betty took me to the station. Car was still in the parking lot intact, I stopped to get blueberries, stayed up until 9:00, then fell into bed and slept soundly.
As for my big brother and twin sister, I didn't see them the whole time and I'm sick with grief and rage at the doppelgangers who took their places.