Final Ride

As Joanne returned to her place Father Xavier Barry rose from where he was seated to the side of the altar and made his way to the lectern.  He blessed everyone in the church and thanked them for attending.  I couldn't believe the service was over, my mind was racing.  What were we supposed to do now?  Get up and leave? Wait for everyone else to leave first?  I looked at Robin for some sign and then noticed the pallbearers making their way up the center aisle.  Simultaneously the music that Jo and Melissa had insisted be played at the end of the service was cued up (listen to Miike Snow "Burial") .  I could feel my heart pounding rapidly as the men that now seemed to be too young and sad for such a responsibility grabbed the sides and corners of Geoff's casket.  The music was signaling that the service had ended and all that was left was to escort Geoff from the front of the altar at Our Lady of Fatima to the waiting limousine for his final ride.  When I recognized that the pallbearers, Scott Killelea, Rob Marshall, Mark Edwards, Michael Ings, Matt Popplewell and Chris Ma were in the process of turning the coffin, as was foretold my Patsy Healy, I immediately rose to my feet, hoping everyone else in the church would do the same.  I wanted to stand at attention to salute my son and his too short journey through life.  I could tell by the sounds behind me that everyone had joined in the show of respect. As the coffin was turned to allow Geoff to leave the sanctuary feet first there was a heave by the pallbearers, first to chest height and a second thrust to the level of their shoulders where they bore the weight of the Tazmanian Blackwood box with Geoff's body.  That second move from their chests to shoulders nearly ripped my heart from its mooring.  I felt my knees buckle and all the grief and sorrow that had built up over this past week decided to leave my being at once.  I felt Luke move in behind me to try to help me stand as I was now on my knees in the church pew, no longer able to stay upright.  We made our way to the aisle, I'm not sure how, to follow the pallbearers and Geoff out to the drive where the waiting limousine had been parked.  At one point during our procession out of Our Lady of Fatima, walking past the baptismal font once again, I started to invoke a mantra "Don't take him away" which I repeated often and loudly, not caring who heard.

As we made our way to the back of the hearse following the pallbearers and their precious cargo I was mindlessly obsessed with making sure they were gentle and careful when putting the coffin into the back of the vehicle.  "Don't take him away" was still emanating repeatedly from my lips in rapid fire phraseology.  As the driver dismissed the pallbearers and shut the back door of the hearse, Luke, Melissa, Candi, Jo and others joined hands with me and we walked as if in formation behind the Cadillac as it made its way to Shaw Street.  Another of the employees of WN Bull had stopped traffic in order to allow the funeral car to take it's place on the road toward the Crematorium at Woronora Cemetery.  We had previously chosen not to attend the cremation but to have our final goodbye there at Our Lady of Fatima.  As the car drove from my sight I couldn't help but feel that much of what made me who I am was ensconced in that coffin with our son to be torched along with what remained of his existence.  I stood on the curb watching the vehicle until it moved beyond my ability to see it any longer.

I turned around and observed multiple small groups quietly milling about on the church lawn.  It was now a very warm afternoon and most were wearing sunglasses and had their jackets removed.  The agenda was to move on to John and Victoria Pappas' home in Kogarah, not a very long drive, for a wake and a chance to spend some time with these wonderful people that thought it appropriate to attend our son's service.  I saw Shirley Stanley standing out in the sunshine and invited her to have a seat in the car that had brought us to the church earlier as the air conditioning was on and she had, no doubt, just endured a very stressful stretch of time.  Most of the days I had been in Sydney on this trip so far were spent in overcast, dreary skies and I took it as a sign that we saw our son off in the brilliant afternoon sky that seemed to beam as radiantly as he always had.  Luke and I spent a few minutes making sure our group had rides to the Pappas' home, some with Luke and other family members and then some of us in the limousine.  We made the 10 minute trip uneventfully and quietly, then said good bye to Michael, the driver, as he left us at the curb.  We would be finding our own way home from there by taxi or the good grace of others.