Mom's memorial service was Friday. On Saturday we picked up her ashes from the cremation society and delivered them to the cemetery. She will be interred on Tuesday.
The memorial service was held at the local Congregational church Mom and Dad had joined years ago and as far as I know never attended. At least, I know Mom never went after Dad's service fourteen years ago; they might have attended during the first few years. The minister, who was not there for Dad's service, found their names in the church records so all was well. A few of Mom's friends who live nearby and are capable of getting around came as did cousins from the Atlantic side of the state. Afterwards, almost everyone came back to the house where friends of my brother who own a NASCAR themed racing bar delivered lasagna, salad and two jugs of iced tea, sweetened and not. We mixed the teas together to forestall the diabetic coma that would have resulted from anyone drinking the sweet stuff and everyone sat around going through family pictures.
Saturday morning my brother, my Other Brother and I picked up Mom's ashes. We had to sign a number of receipts, chain-of-custody acknowledgements and permissions (including one allowing us to take her across state lines even though we were only going to take her across the river). Her temporary transportation urn had a metal seal on it to be broken only by the funeral home. This was placed in a box which was put in a bag which we took in the car for the six mile trip to the cemetery. Once there, we had to sign another stack of acknowledgements claiming the right as next of kin to be doing what we were doing, the contract for disposition of Mom's ashes and the purchase order for her personalized brick to be placed next to Dad's.
And then when Mom was legally out of our custody and her interment scheduled (subject to rain delay but the forecast is favorable) the three of us went over to the NASCAR racing bar to say thanks for the catering job and have lunch.
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