Back to Michigan

They say you can't go back...
cause it won't be the same...
be it a job, relationship or a hometown -
unless you return in a box...like my daddy.

The body of my father...a very big man
of 500 lbs...was transported by train...
across the state of Michigan from large city
back to his small town birthplace.

I don't know if the town had changed
in the years Dad had been gone...
as I had never been there before...
he had moved to a bigger city after Vietnam.

The funeral director named off others
with our surname...but I knew none of them.
I had only met my father a few months earlier.
My evil mother had kept us apart 20 yrs.

I was the only child of their short union...
and I had to do this with a baby on my hip.
No supportive spouse. He was sitting in jail
for beating me for attending my father's funeral.

It was a prepaid funeral/burial plan bought
4 decades back before my dad was drafted.
He survived Vietnam just to die by blood clot.
Only 60 years old.  I cried for all the lost years.

I only had to sign two papers and show ID
and of course I showed up with the body.
Dad's last earthly journey.  The funeral
director Bob was nice.  I guess they all are.

"It will be posted for 2 days.  You never know who will show up.  Any problems let me know immediately.  I'll handle it."  I asked about cheap motels and I was very surprised..."We have a guest house. Don't worry."

"It's yours to use for the next three days. People
are caught off guard by death.  My wife and I try our best to accommodate during grieving.  We'll even get
you to your bus or train on Friday." I thanked him.

He showed us the guest house.  It was like a deluxe motel room with appliances. "There's a grocery store 1/2 mile east and a restaurant 1/2 mile west. Tell my
sister you are here and she'll give you 50% off."

I sat on the bed holding my son...and crying
it all out.  I cried myself to sleep. Hours later,
I checked out an Acme. The prices were extremely cheap. I spent three of the $20 I had borrowed.

There was an afternoon newspaper in the room when we returned.  Already the notice was published...small towns! Wow! Tomorrow's wake 2pm - 4pm.  The funeral was 10am the following day. Thursday.

I cooked us microwave entrées and then we bathed before bed. I hung my only black dress on the shower bar to smooth out wrinkles. I had packed everything I
brought in my son's diaper bag. Breakfast poptarts!

Depressed and stressed surprisingly I slept well.  I
slept in.  I felt safe. The phone rang waking us at 11am. I hadn't even noticed the phone.  It was Bob,
the funeral director. "Open or closed gasket?"

50 steps to inside the funeral home.  I had decided on open...for now.  There were plates of cookies out and my son and I nibbled. Never got to the poptarts!
Dad looked handsome in a suit I'd never seen.

"The suit was included in the package."  I guess he'd seen my reaction. "There's no costs to you at all.  In fact, my wife wants to bring you and your son dinner later?"  I nodded ok as I ate a delicious macaroon.

I started crying again as 2pm came and a few people entered. A minister, 3 former classmates and others who talked and ate cookies. At least some people
showed up for Dad. I was so thankful for Bob.

The minister talked my ear off. He would say a few words tomorrow.  I got a couple hugs from strangers.  I'm not as afraid of strangers as I am of family and their friends.  Bob boxed up the cookies for us.

Meatloaf, potatoes, corn and rolls! Nancy also brought napkins and bottled water. She offered to hold and feed my son and I found her easy to talk to. She got the very short version of my horrid life story!

The funeral, the following day was brief. There were a few words graveside. Two VFW members showed up to give me a flag.  So nice were the townsfolk I don't know why my dad never returned after Vietnam.

But what I remembered from school was that some people blamed the returning soldiers for policies of the government and veterans weren't treated fairly. Plus, there were few opportunities in small towns.

I returned many years later to place flowers on my father's grave.  I stopped at the funeral home but Bob had retired to Florida and sold the business after Nancy died.  The Acme was also long closed.

That trip made me realize that you can't go back. Things always change too much. After the war my father had had no one to go back to - no family.
I said goodbye to my daddy a final time!